On the radio I catch the word "calm". Calm is what I like. And tranquil. I remember arriving at a small hotel in Granada, Spain, without any money. Two hungry teenage girls and a wife were putting a brave face on a venture which had started out as a light hearted picnic in the mountains. An abandoned car and a punctured tyre to which I clung as a talisman added to a prevailing dreamlike quality. It was the weekend. Banks and consulates were closed or unreachable. "Sea tranquilo", keep calm, said the kindly hotelier. "Tranquilo! And tranquil I became. The disaster soon became an adventure, a story to be repeated from time to time. And tranquillity something I have since been able to return to more easily helped by the voice of the gentle hotelier which I can still hear now.
Watching people in the doctors surgery I see people I think I once knew , but it is not their features I recognise. It is the way their hair is cut and the sort of glasses they are wearing. Superficial likenesses. Something tells me that I should look more closely