n.b. I cannot imagine I ever let anyone borrow that from me, but no sign of my copy of the classic text by Simon Inglis and I would never have knowingly given it away.The Football Grounds of Europe is still with me, so maybe this is telling me something about my future?
I was walking back from the shop, carrying a paper bag of groceries in my arms when I reached the bridge. I have been here before, but not like this. There has usually been some kind of run up, run out, or just gradually being run down. Not this time. I just thought, from nowhere really, “I couldjust step over the barrier.”
I surprised myself at the sudden appearance of the idea. I recognised this as ideation and important to acknowledge. I need to speak to someone. Then it came on me again, echoed in my limbs, was more familiar, less frightening. I thought of my sons and grandchildren, my family.
I walked back to my apartment. Unpacked my groceries. Went to an online business meeting. Afterwards I made a phone call and asked if the kettle was on. It was, of course. The kettle is always on somewhere.