Sanctuary

If I were paid for wasting time – particularly my own – I’d be a rich woman.

Every so often there is a moment when even I realise that a desk is a desk and not a depository for everything that happens to come my way. I shudder to think being the object of attention of that programme “Through the keyhole”, hosted by Sir David Frost; a panel has to guess – on filmed evidence of a house and its contents – which celebrity lives there. You’d only need one glance at my study and you’d know that, whilst I am not a celebrity, only I could live here.

However, there is always an up to the down. So I intrigue myself endlessly by finding scraps of paper with handwritten notes of mine. They must have made sense at the time; ten days later they inspire mystery and bafflement.

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