Sunday - 6th October

There is something satisfying the way one season blends into the next, as if nature refuses to listen to the ridiculous twitterings of the human race and that which is alive in nature says to itself in my rational logical world, I shall continue my perambulations round the sun.  Sunrises and sunsets shall be ravishing in their beauty, catching the breath  And, as today, people on the radio  talking about the humble ladybird that lives in Britain, 47 species I think, nature does not give a s--- about how many creatures live or die, but goes on designing the flora and fauna with artistic flair.

We are surrounded by different shapes and forms, yesterday walking  Lucy I looked up at the ash trees and noted that they are free of the disease that is sweeping the country - Ash die-back, and I was happy remembering the tale of Odin as he hung from the ash, the great Yggdrasil tree, that stories are one of the legacies of the human race.

We have written our stories on rocks, wood, hides, culminating in paper and now I write on a computer that requires no trees to be cut down for my vague thoughts.

So I shall copy onto my computer somewhere an article I found in one of Paul's file, it was in praise of his work, and though Paul said he would write his memoirs, he never did.  It was written by someone called Geoffrey Murray, a journalist who lived and worked in Asia. Though the tears are never very far away, I take comfort in Paul's presence around this house.