As often, the trip starts the evening before with a dull terror; I realise I’m flying the next day with a “holy crap”. They say pleasure is in the anticipation, I bitterly reflect the converse is true.

Though it’s only an hour, it will be an hour full of anxiety. I’m not sure whether the fear of the night before is a fear of the flight or a fear of the fear I’ll feel on the flight, if you see what I mean. Whichever it is, I have a bad night’s sleep.

This weekend, Jason came to visit. On Saturday Rose, Jason, Ed, Aew and I went on a trip to the St. Werburgh’s City Farm, which is a small farm in central Bristol—within easy walking distance of our house. It was a beautiful day, bright and warm; it felt like spring had finally arrived.

The farm is across some allotments from Ed’s flat, so we walked alongside vegetable patches, rundown sheds and the few people who had come out to tend their vegetables in the sunshine. Blossom was coming out and there was that warm scented fuzziness to the air spring brings.

I now have a copy of this wonderful poster tacked to the wall of my cube.

Going to and from work each day, I pass, pull alongside or see briefly as they flash past maybe a hundred other people. Each intent on the way ahead, little noticing my noticing them. Pretty girls and sharply dressed guys; ill-fitting suits and well-cut t-shirts; smiling and scowling faces; bright and dull eyes; attentive and slouching at the wheel. All whisking past on their way somewhere.

Will their day affect my day? Are they going to the council buildings to make a decision on whether to patch the holes and bumps in my street? Or, perhaps, someone will make a choice to buy one of our laptops, thereby indirectly contributing to my well-being.

I received my copy of iPhoto ‘09 this morning and it immediately set to work finding faces in my photos. Sometimes this feature is a little off-base, however: