Leona - a super fit 52-year-old woman - tried to help me sort out my serve during tennis today and all I can say at the end of it is that I am utterly hopeless.
The drownings of the hundreds of migrants in the Mediterrean Sea is indescribably sad. I am trying to make a concerted effort to be grateful for the things that I have in life, but sometimes, it's difficult not to get sucked back into, and trapped in, the endless loop of dissatisfaction and discontent that plays itself in my head.
Anyway, I am tired. I'm going to start reading Iris Murdoch's A Severed Head.
(PS. I underline book titles sometimes because one of my junior college Literature teachers told us to do it in exams, and for some reason, this has stuck with me. He was a brilliant teacher, one of my favourites. I was totally enamoured with his wit and he taught me how to read Julian Barnes. I wonder how he's doing.)