Another 4.30 am start, its dark but warmer than its been - spring is surely trying hard. This weekend the clocks change to British Summer Time and goodness but am I ready for it. Walking under the blue viaduct rampart into Brighton, I was trying to think why a man flying to Barcelona would get so desperate as to lock his friends out of the cockpit and then deliberately crash the plane with a hundred and fifty people on board? It doesn't seem to make sense to me that we grow out of a generation of people who fought wars for our freedom and then we use our freedom in this way. I had a terrible sleep last night, couldn't get this idea out of my head and knowing I was getting up at 4.30 didn't help. So finally falling back to sleep around three and knowing I had more time felt good. Then Abbi 'whatsapped' me at 4.15 to tell me she was reading Tennyson's, Idylls of the King. What did I think at that time? That's my girl, it seems to be a good time to get the kettle on. And so here I am, four thirty is approaching five, the early grey with citron tea is hot and reviving, its a new day and I will be re-reading a new book at the weekend - Idylls of the King, of course. I can barely listen to this song without it giving me goosebumps every time. Just one of those that seeps into our bodies, grabs hold and never seems to let go, happy Friday...
