Last night I didn't cry...

Yesterday was Finland, Estonia and England in one day. It was watching David's coffin pass inches from me. It was hearing the Vicar talk about bodies burning. It was seeing the 1995 Monte Carlo press plate on the wall from David's collection - it was my first; where I met the likes of he and Michel.

I cried of course, on the bus from Tampere under blue fluroscent lights, on the Ryanair sticky seats that don't slide back, in the check in queue with a credit card salesman behind me, in the comfortably decrepit church, on the Stansted Express's crumb covered seats.

But when I got home I didn't cry. The boys at the Outback were darlings, Nina made me realise that people do care, and the night was passed sober and dry eyed dunking fatty chips in sauce pots and flicking cabbage onto the floor.

Of course, when one thing comes together, so do others. So I erased the hearts from my margins with blushing anxiety; that episode over before it began. I wrote an apology to The Finn for using words like hate. I resigned to never contact the Irishman again, even if I am broke and he owes me money.

And of course, with the planets now realigned, some work landed in my In Box which means I can eat for my remaining days in Finland, possibly even in Japan and maybe stop using my credit card to buy groceries.

It also means I will be working indoors incessantly these last gorgeous days here in Finland. But that's nothing to cry about...