Boss rang from Malaga airport. Could someone travel to meet him at Gatwick with his security pass for the London offices? Where is the security pass? At his home. Key to his home is in the usual flowerpot outside. Who can I send? Who? We are one down with food poisoning, one at a funeral, and everyone else in court or at the nick. So tempted to shut up shop and go, but sent the one person I knew would take the scenic route (and the piss), and probably visit Sainsbury's en route. No other option.

A client arrived this afternoon, and fanned herself with our copy of The Times. "I don't know how you work in here," she said. "Do you think it's too hot?", I asked, "I've got the fan going. I thought it was pretty cool". She laughed, and said, "I don't mean that, I mean the water running down the walls, the workmen climbing all over you, in and out of windows, that drill going....." "Oh, that!", I found myself saying, "Business as usual". I have actually got used to it.

All my marigolds have died, despite constant care and attention. They must have been blighted from the off, since the daisies thrive. What heartache a garden brings, and yet what joy! My little mirrors hanging from the trees send beautiful prism-like colours into my kitchen, and my heart lights up.

Everyone seems to be in the doldrums at the moment. My children, (who tell me at length about their problems in a way I would never have told MY mother), me, colleagues - even the woman I regularly buy my newspaper from. She's usually so happy and smiley, but this evening, she said, "June 23rd, and no proper summer. I do feel, really, as the years go by, that I am getting smaller, like a little gas flame". But, I said, how's your new little granddaughter?, and her face lit up, and she was quite animated for thirty seconds, but then said, "Getting older is crap, isn't it?" Well, I don't know. I tried to think. I wanted to save something for her; make something worthwhile. "We wouldn't have any grandchildren if we were young," I said, pathetically, and she suddenly burst out crying, and howled, "You are the nicest person I know, and I don't even know you."

It wasn't my finest hour. I'm not good at hugging strangers, (even when Lottie told me she had split up with Rob and fell against my shoulder, I had trouble hugging her), and so the counter stayed firmly between us whilst I paid for the paper. "We all have dreary moments," I said, "but the sun will shine tomorrow, and you should make the most of it. Take your little grandchild down the pier, and buy ice cream and candy floss, and both get drunk on sugar".

She laughed; I smiled.

I got into my car, and put my head on the steering wheel. 23rd June! Today is my dad's birthday. Dad, I so miss you. I think I need something stronger than sugar this evening.