It's not that I didn't think of something, it's that there are so many things competing for my attention that I can't choose, especially in the time I have allotted to me/it. Yesterday was the first day of summer - O Happy Day! - and I took the Festival Bus to Stratford, catching up with a dear friend who lives here, and settling by dinner time with another dear friend with whom I will attend three plays starting this afternoon. I will have a lot to assimilate.

And one remains consistently, persistently mindful. These are not people or events I can write off or coast through.

Plus, I carry my digital daily Manchester Guardian and New York Times with me, so there are events and thoughts to react to. Try as i might to keep removed, I am, like most people in North America, addicted to information. I think perhaps my Stratford friend is the least addicted person I know, but then, no, she is addicted to other facts and stimuli, in other directions. I'm not, of course, referring to addictive substances. I think human beings have addictive responses wired into their DNA; we all must be very careful what we latch onto.

I have not, for example, latched onto Netflix. I know myself too well, and my penchant for story. If I had Netflix I would stare forever and never return: I would never write again. I note, by the way, a recent article commenting on this, that people are killing themselves with Netflix - binge-watching. I guess it's a "nice" way to die, but I'm not ready for it yet..

I have miles to go before I sleep.