Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages; Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Cymbeline, Act IV, Scene II

The first day of September is significant and contradictory; schools and universities start their new years just as as the natural world starts to decay and die. I hope that I can learn something new, at the same time knowing that there are so many things I shall never understand, and the older I get,…

My mother died a year ago today. It was hard to know how, or whether, to mark this. I spent much of the day at the sailing club, probably not something of which she would have approved. An admiral’s daughter, she thought recreational sailing frivolous. In the end, I simply listened again to the music…