It is Monday morning. I sit at my kitchen table. The house is tidy but the table is a mess. My sewing machine is out and the table is strewn with pins, measuring tape, buttons, spools of thread. It is a happy chaos.
The kitchen door is open and the light streams in through the glass. There is a blue sky outside, a result not to be sniffed at, given the grey tendencies of the weather these past few days, or weeks. Here in London, the sunshine is a rarity and worshiped like a god.
I sip the last few mouthfuls of my now cold tea. I listen to a plane fly overhead, and I wonder where it has come from. I scratch my head and purse my lips a little. The day is upon me and I must decide my strategy.