Well, I did one of those things, and I'm not going into details. I was lucky; it turned out all right - I didn't actually do the daft and ill-considered thing that I thought I had done. But I spent several hours reflecting on the situation, and resolving to pay more attention to the consequences of my actions in future.
When I had finished "having a word with myself", I walked past this as I went in to work:
the photograph doesn't do it justice. One lone, late, buddleia flower, perfect, beautiful. How can something so ordinary, so everyday, speak of comfort and solace and, dare I say, forgiveness?
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