For Many Weeks After [my Wife] Died,

I Have Two Ideas For Novels At The Moment, Neither Of Them All That Conventional, But I'm Not Ready To Choose Between Them Yet, Let Alone Settle Down To The Process Of Writing.

I Like The Rain Before It Falls. Of Course There Is No Such Thing, She Said. That's Why It's My Favorite. Something Can Still Make You Happy, Can't It, Even If It Isn't Real.

Revisionist Historians Are About To Get Their Hands On The Thatcher Years, Shes Probably Going To Be Looked At Again Because She Feels Far Enough Away Now, And We Dont See Her Much On The Political Landscape In This Country, Shes Kind Of Disappeared And She Doesnt Speak Out Much Anymore.

We Say, 'shall We Meet For A Drink?', As Though Drinking Were The Main End Of The Appointment, And The Matter Of Company Only Incidental, We Are So Shy About Admitting Our Need For One Another.[...]we Say, 'would You Like To Come For Some Coffee?', As Though It Were Less Frightening To Acknowledge That We Are Heavily Dependent On Mildly Stimulating Drinks, Than To Acknowledge That We Are At All Dependent On The Companionship Of Other People.

Well, I Like The Rain Before It Falls.