The world is a pair of trousers.

"the world is a pair of trousers, held up by the braces of hope, laugh and the whole world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone," my dad wrote this in my autograph book when i was about eight year sold. Wierd.

Yesterday I woke up with the sun and before the intense heat of the day had a chance to deter me I set off for city distant - a day’s work to do.

A crust to earn.

The shadows were still long, the birds were still singing and the air was fresh – if the forest had not been so green, and the need for vigilance at the wheel of a car so evident, I could have shut my eyes and imagined myself beside an ocean.

As it was seas of waiting sunflowers greeted me, bright yellow set against the blue clarity of first morn.

I opened the window, let the wind play with my arm and my arm play with the wind; and as I drove I listened to recordings of The Beatles made in a distant early 1960’s.

When I was a kid.

Innocent.

Untouched by both the pleasures and the pains that the world can offer.

It was a perfect start.

Then this song started to play.

And I lost it.

Suddenly I missed my mum.

My dad.

Our home.

My youth.

Bill.

Pete.

Beryl.

And friends.

And their losses.

And George.

And John.

And then it was too much.

I was overwhelmed by the immensity of beauty and grief.

I don’t understand.

Why?

And all I could do was cry.

I’m ok today.

Back under control again.

Until the next time.