It's Tuesday. Out of my window I can see white clouds and grey clouds. For May, it's not that warm. But the bees are buzzing around the interesting sprays of tiny white flowers on next door's palm tree. (I know! In Ealing!) and the flowers are blooming in the row of little front gardens. Yesterday I spent eight hours in two different accident and emergency departments, first Charing Cross Hospital, which isn't anywhere near Charing Cross, then the bright shiny new one on the Fulham Road. There's nowt wrong with me; I was with a friend who'd had an argument with a sharp implement and lost. Thank goodness I had my knitting with me; there's a lot of waiting around to do. Anyway, after eight hours watching ill people getting patched and despatched, I am seriously appreciating my current good health.

Incidentally, if you ever have a choice, go to Charing Cross; they are lovely. At the other hospital I got told off twice, once for standing in the wrong place and once for sitting in the wrong place. It was the stroppy blonde woman in white, hair up, thinks she's the boss of you. Although it's fair to say that the plastic surgeon who's going to see if he can repair the damage today was a very nice chap. She's going straight into the next novel, and then we'll see if she starts being a bit less supercilious.

So for today, I'm going to appreciate whatever the world chucks at me, even if it rains. And I'm going to write up my notes ready for next time I write a hospital visit into a work of fiction. Every experience is useful, even eight hours hanging around in A&E.