  I'm sitting in what used to be my sister's room but is now referred to as 'The Office'. It's It's too full of junk really to be called that but I am partly to blame for this.
In the corner opposite the desk are five crates of books stacked up until they reach the ceiling full of books. My books: a by-product of my university education, along with the graduation photograph which has been framed and mounted in the hallway. Perhaps my parents would be disappointed to discover that the scroll I'm clutching is not my degree certificate but a plastic tube with a ribbon tied around it.
As for the cap and mortar board (is that what it's called? ) that was just for decoration too: unlike at Oxford, the other university with a boatrace and a history, we weren't forced to wear all that formal garb to our finals. 'Finals'. I always thought that word made those exams sound like the Last Judgement, which in a way I suppose they were, but fortunately we were spared the hell-fire. Today we made it out of Yarmouth. Mum and I didn't go to Hickling yesterday (she said her back hurt too much and that twenty miles was a long way to drive to have a meal) so I was pleased that we did something that involved venturing a little further afield.
A trip to Norwich meant getting the train and I've always liked travelling on them especially when there aren't too many people around and you can look out of the window and just be with your own thoughts. I know that I've spent far too much time in the last year day-dreaming, living in memory and imagination rather than reality and so this morning as we passed by Breydon Water I made a conscious decision to enjoy the present moment, despite my ongoing fatigue.
Breydon Water did look beautiful too and when I looked out of the window during the journey I noticed trees and cows and the odd windmill and a lovely rosebush at one of the tiny stations that I always feel resentful about stopping at because it seems as though no-one ever gets on or off there. Lingwood. Brundall. Brundall Gardens 'Brundall is just a village, why does it need two train stations for God's sake?
' the irritated monologue in my head would normally complain. Today though, I enjoyed the journey, more than usual and I made a mental note to myself to stop slagging off Norfolk for the sake of it as it's not all bad. Some people come here on holiday and they can't all be fools. I'm on holiday here too: on holiday or perhaps just resting between two points. Mum and I did ordinary mother and daughter things. We went to Castle Mall and I bought one new pair of shoes, black flat slingbacks with ballerina toes and one pair of sandals, white leather ones with squishy cork soles.
It was Mum who encouraged me to choose white - 'Go on, live a little'. I ended up buying a belt to match too and now I'm worried that I might look just a little like an Essex girl. 'Don't be daft,' Mum told me, 'You look smart in that'. We had a cigarette together as soon as we got outside.
I felt like we were fellow conspiritors. 'I'll offer you one this time but I don't want to encourage you,' she told me. I don't know why I've started dabbling with smoking again to be honest. After all 'SMOKING KILLS! ' as the health warnings on the packet kindly points out. I like having the odd cigarette though and I always have, usually when I'm by myself in one of those reflective moods.
I've been stealing cigarettes from Mum for the past week when she's gone to bed and everything in the house is quiet. Daft really. I'm trailing off here, I can feel it, so I'll try and bring things to a close albeit abruptly. Mum and I had a nice day out shopping today and I feel a lot closer to her than I have for a long time and I'm glad. There we are: today's summary. No Booker Prize winning stuff, no double-backed somersaults, just my thoughts. Maybe someone else will read them, maybe they won't. I'm glad they're here though.
I'm glad I've made the effort to write it down. 
