I spent ten minutes of my afternoon in the garden taking some photos of the pretty bits. I read the best explanation on why we should take photos from social researcher Rosy Martin earlier in the day. She said: I photograph in order to hold on to the moment, the place, the trace which I cannot stop, cannot keep, cannot hold.
Iona doesn't want to sleep without a light in the hallway; Nathan can't sleep with any light in it. Even with his door closed, even with his eyes shut. They both get up and ask me if I can reverse the request of the other. I don't know what to do, it distresses them equally. I tell Iona that she doesn't have to listen to the fear, she's in charge of her own brain, but what do I know? I take orders from fear all the time.
Eilidh had a lot of homework for the first time this year, lots of maths homework, and jazz practice, and it was her dishes night. Which was all one hundred percent butt crack.
