Cant sleep. Too many thoughts about the three hours spent in T's house during seizures, ambo assist, and conversations with S. T's family dynamics would be an interesting aerial view. I hope the Calais finds its way into the gorge before they get their hands on it.

This photographic memory is giving me no peace either. Brain is shooting from one scene, and conversation to the next.

Putting all his furniture back in place, and cleaning up the mess was important to me. Maybe I wanted to remember the place the way it used to be, and 'see' T behind the desk as healthy. Also, there was a sense of dignifying his memory by sorting the surroundings. And I found out where he hid the jelly beans. Of course the child borrowed a few!

We might have been the last two faces he saw, and that comforts me immensely. Me and S weren't blood relatives, but I am pretty sure we were family to him in some good way.

The picture that upsets me the most at the moment is that of the bush around his house. Will I always 'see' that and remember the way it was with him?

I do hope Malcolm will be up there waiting for him with a tinny in hand. Then they can both watch the cricket together.