sometimes i am staying at home. i am waving goodbyes; i am finishing my coffee. then i am thinking ‘ah i am staying at home & how good an opportunity is this to finish my thesis’. sometimes i am imagining the goodness of being a post-graduate scholar, being awarded money to write. i am wondering and not sitting at the computer. sometimes i curse my loss of the pen. sometimes i feel the need of a lift so i go & eat some tim-tams although it is still only nine o’clock & a silly time to load up on sugar. sometimes i make more coffee – i think such an empty day is perfect for tying up ends, for ‘achievment’. i am reading blogs though. i am curious at the generally perfect way others’ describe inane moments: ‘nothing more nothing less; manilla folders are nice; octoped.’ i misquote myself. sometimes i am realising virginia woolf would never have analysed her poetry in detail, had she swung that way. sometimes i am here in the ‘now’ of things & ably remembering a line where i used ‘in in’ & it was hard but i did it. i do things sometimes. sometimes it rains. if you are a farmer post your opinion here on the amount of rain you received i am sure it will enlighten & i will respond at length it is sometimes debatable just how much time i have on my hands & stuff.