One-and-a-half up.

Today, after a slow start, a long breakfast, quite a bit of coffee and  a run around the park with the dogs (Well, half with the dogs...John and I ran around the paths, Sherlock and Mycroft played frisbee with the dogs in the middle, the dogs occasionally came and tried to trip us up), Mycroft and I headed off on the bike.

We didn't go too far, just for a spin out of town, a few different roads, nothing spectacular. And he mainly liked it. Well, he smiled when he got off...and I think it was because he enjoyed it, not because he was pleased to be off the back. He did say he didn't like filtering through the traffic much ("Because you never know what the other drivers might do - some of them are idiots.") We stopped and had a drink, then came back into town and went straight to the swimming pool, where we met John and Sherlock.

School Daze

Well. Wow. I can honestly say I've never been anywhere like Harrow before. Especially not a school. It was...grand.

We were shown around by a master, and saw loads of classrooms, dining rooms, boarding houses, sports halls - you name it.

I was mainly there, it seems, as Sherlock's trusty steed. Well, there's a massive advantage to having him on my shoulders - it's far harder for him to run off! Although now I have to hold onto his ankles all the time. He's developed a system of dismount otherwise, which involves (with no warning) unhooking his legs from my shoulders, grabbing my collar/shirt and sliding down my back very fast. Resulting in me being strangled and him escaping. And to think it wasn't long ago when he'd only sit up there if John held his hand.

Mycroft and his mum asked a lot of questions. John asked some questions. I tried to stop Sherlock asking questions, and not look like a fish, with my mouth hanging open all the time. Or laugh as Sherlock tried to wriggle free of John's grip in the science labs. He was like an eel on a line, twisting and turning and struggling, and John was just standing, calm as you like, completely focussed on what was being said as his arm was almost removed.

I did almost spit coffee across the room when fees were discussed, though...

So, obviously it's up to Mycroft if he wants to tell you his impressions, but they got as far as starting to discuss which house he might join...which I assume is a good sign?

Back to School

Tomorrow we're going to Harrow. I think it'll be really interesting. And I hope Mycroft likes it.

I think this visit is just to meet the Masters and look around, and then later in the holidays there are days when Mycroft can meet other pupils who'll be starting there.

He's been really good with Sherlock so far in the holidays - I know it's only a few days in, but it's lovely to see.

John and I are doing fairly well on the running front. Which is good - I think first practice may be next week. Although he let me off tonight, because I look tired, apparently. I take back what I said about him being a slave driver.

All the things that might have been

Twenty five years ago today a friend of mine died. He was twenty three. His name was Steve.

Not long after I arrived in London I met him through mutual friends. He was only three years older than me, but a Londoner born and bred. And a genuinely nice bloke. To me, it felt like he knew everything and everyone. He had tireless energy, for work, for music, for clubbing, for everyone.

People used to call us boyfriends, but we weren't really. We were close - I was probably, emotionally, closer to him than a few of the people who were my boyfriends, over the time we knew one another. We'd crash in each other's beds, spend evenings on each other's sofas, and probably did seem, from the outside, like and old married couple.

Normal service is resumed...

...with the aid of bike-gear porn. I mean...that's the sort of thing John says when I look at bike gear. I can't help coveting some stuff, can I??

Anyway, finally finally we got back to the shops and bought Mycroft some biker gear. [Biker gear makes me sound like, well, a biker. Which I'm not. M]

We got him some black jeans, and ...what the...Mycroft! How do you do that? You are a biker, I mean, you will be. Enough to need biker gear, anyway. Now either come down here and contribute to the post with me or stop...doing that thing. [Okay. M]

Okay to which? Oh, he's here. Right. So, jeans, a nice plain black helmet, some decent boots and gloves, and The Jacket. Yes, Mycroft, it does need capitals.

Has the world gone mad?

As if the famine in Africa isn't completely terrible enough for the world to cope with (try to cope with? Try to help? How do you even begin? I just sort of sit and stare at the pictures and can't even imagine the scale of the disaster.) Then there's a bomb in Norway, and before that news has even sunk in then this same guy (reportedly) has killed...how many now? 92 people. And he was dressed as a policeman. And that just...that just hurts in so many ways. I can't imagine how anyone who is linked in any way to that entire situation is coping. It's so many people - young people - and for what? I know it's nothing in scale compared to the famine - but that's one person, one person has taken all of those lives. One person who dressed in a uniform and gathered those kids around him, before shooting them in cold blood.

And now the media has gone mad because Amy Winehouse is dead. Again, a young person, who could have been and done so much - who was so talented, who touched so many people - and what happened? How did her life get so out of control?

It's all on such different scales, but...but nothing is more or less tragic than anything else, in its own way. Just like all the other deaths, all the other small, personal tragedies that happen every day, that all touch someone...sometimes it's just too much, isn't it?

And...I feel like I should have something more insightful to say. And I don't.

I just know I'll be thinking about all those people. And all the people who I see, frozen in death. All the friends I've lost. And all the families I still remember, even after years in the job. And even all the people I've watched step down from the dock. I'll think about all of those.

And in the midst of all that, try to think about all the living too, everyone who makes the world a better place. And I suppose all we can do, when it gets too much, is to think about people like that. Like a life-buoy to cling to.

caught. court. banged up.

Spent the day in court. It's been slow going. Legal wrangling going on for hours. It was pretty tedious.

But over now. Unless i get called back. Can't see what else they could ask me. But you never know.

Started feeling a bit rough this afternoon. Really didn't want to be there after that. Just felt all...like being drunk, dizzy, sort of. And sick.

Sherlock is wildly excited about his sports day tomorrow. I think just because it's a chance to be outside and run about, not because he's particularly competitive at sports. He's asked if there could be a dog race, apparently. I can just imagine how well that would go...

Mycroft seems happy to be going to visit Harrow (less said about Eton the better.) I hope it'll be a good day for him - interesting, and maybe put his mind at rest about a few things. Maybe put ours at rest, too.

When I was at primary school kids in the village didn't want to know us, because they all lived in big farm houses and we were from the council houses. I liked going to big school better, because we all had to get the bus, so no one ever saw where you lived to judge you.