What a strange, beautiful day it has been.
Perfect weather for the ride into London.
Arriving around midday to an organised, busy chaos.
Worrying about a family member who appears to have gone walkabout.
Fretting - the perfect word.
Reminded and remembering the summer solstice of 1990 (0r 1991 - my bloody memory)
When my X and I lost a child in Bangor Hospital.
(yes we did look behind the sofa)
One child born on a winter solstice.
One child lost on a summer solstice.
The longest day, indeed.