I drank two glasses of cranberry juice and ate three slices of toast instead of bran flakes this morning. Some days I can’t believe people eat the same thing for breakfast every day. What is it about the morning that gives us all this sense of routine? I wish I knew. If you tried to feed me bran flakes every day for five years I’d probably scream. But that’s what I’ve done almost all of my life.
After breakfast I went for a walk in the park. Flocks of gulls kept appearing from the low, grey clouds. They faded into existence like cheap special effects, and then they faded away again behind me. I stared at them until I started to see spots and lines dancing across the flat white expanse of sky, then I went home and ate pasta and tuna. No attacks.
