Monday 6th June 2016

It has come to something when a day working from home, not travelling to the airport at the crack of sparras going to Folkestone for the half six train to London. And all the other stuff that working away from home means. No, this week, I would be working from home, as on Thursday it is Nan's funeral, and so I am excused travel this week.

Jools has five days work to squeeze into three, so she is leaving for work as soon as she can, but the six o'clock departure turns into half six as, well, its Monday.

I am left alone, so make a second pot of coffee, and have a bowl of cereal, and with no football to catch up on now, I switch the radio on, and find that no one famous has died. So far. I say this because over the weekend, Muhammad Ali passed away after a long fight, at 72, he did well after being knocked about the head over half his life. I heard some people saying he was a really hero, unlike Bowie of Price, as he fought for equality as well. I don't know, growing up in Suffolk and being a white as white can be, I can't say. But, for me, he was a hero, a smart-talking, wise-cracking sporting superstar who kept on winning. Only later did I hear of his refusal to go to Vietnam, and the name change et al. Isn't it enough to respect someone for what they achieved, even if it was just to lead a good life?

I start work, deal with the weekend mails, then have two meetings to start the day. Meetings mean that your everyday works gets suspended, and then you have to deal with the outcome of the meetings, and before you know it lunchtime has come and gone and it was in the middle of the afternoon.

Outside the sun shines, so inbetween working I go outside to sit in the warm sunshine and look at the inspects and butterflies, that are also insects, the cats come and lay round my feet, just so they can keep an eye on me in case I feel I might like to feed them.

I am sitting in the garden when Jools comes home, we have a coffee and some chocolate and sit in the garden to enjoy them. Molly, now fed up with the wait for dinner, catches a vole, and then eats it just behind where we're sitting, bones crunching as she makes it disappear.

Next door are on the final stages of the house renovation, and drills scream, and other handheld machinery working hard fills the air with their noise, and workmen's vans line the street as one tradesman after the other unloads more goods to be inserted somewhere in their gaff. It makes for something to look at when I think. I think a lot during the day, I find myself thinking during meetings, writing mails. Some might call it daydreaming. I like to call it thinking.

Jools does more gardening after dinner, planting stuff, watering stuff. It looks fine out there.

I waste the evening, however I am home, not in a hotel and not staring at the walls of a poorly decorated room. I will do that again next week.