Sunday afternoon I was so tired that I needed to lie down, but the children next door were re-enacting the World Cup in the driveway outside my bedroom window. So I moved into my mother's old bedroom and tried catching forty winks.
It wasn't completely successful. I found it distracting being on a different mattress with an unfamiliar pillow and the light coming from a different direction.
And if I opened my eyes, I could see my mother's medication sitting on the bedside table with the two tablets she'd put out for the morning on her last night. Alas, by that morning she was in hospital and never returned home.
I resolutely put that out of my mind. It would have been too easy to work myself into a bittersweet reverie, surrounded by all my mother's possessions and the suite of bedroom furniture that my father bought for her when they were first married.
Sometime I must have dropped off for a few minutes; I don't remember going to sleep, but I must have done. I tidied up the bed and left the room, consigning the question of what to do with it to its permanent home in the "too hard" basket.
As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality. - Albert Einstein
Well that explains it!
The last couple of weeks I kept hearing a mouse somewhere in the pantry, scuttling away whenever I went past but always returning sooner or later.
Tonight I was in there looking for something and I moved some things on one shelf. And there was the reason for all the noise.
An unopened box of liqueur chocolates had had a hole ripped in the side and when I opened the box it was completely empty. Not a scrap of chocolate or a smear of filling to be seen.
No wonder the rodents had been so persistent. I just couldn't decide whether they were chocoholics or alcoholics.
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon on Wednesday last week, so where was I? Sitting in a darkened cinema watching the last day of Superman Returns.
It's a long movie - about 2 hours 40 minutes I think - but I didn't get bored or impatient (though it was probably a good thing I took a sandwich with me, since the days of the interval in a long film seem to have gone for good).
One of the local film critics harrumphed that it was little more than a "gussied-up re-make of the original movie" but that didn't worry me. Maybe that's because I've seen the origin of the Man of Steel reworked so many times in my life.
I started off as a child reading the reprints of the Superman comic book and listening to the radio serial, then over the years there were no less than four different television series plus the four feature films with Christopher Reeve.
So I'm quite used to seeing the basic story reprised in various ways over the years.