Small things loom large when your are small. In a cafe a little boy is proud of drinking milk foamed by the cappuccino machine from a grown-up coffee cup. A wee moustache fringes his lips. His mother has to move on and has his drink transferred to a take-way mug, so that he can have it in his push chair. The end of the world. What a comedown! The promise of having the milk transferred a to a proper cup when they get home is small consolation. Somehow I know how he feels.
I pick up my camera and put it back on my desk. I am longing to start again snapping my way through the small world in which I move. But I want to feel comfortable when I do. My doctor who is being so helpful at the moment assures me that the steroids which he is prescribing for my polymyalgia rheumatica (hope I have it right this time) are on course to restore me to normality within a the next few weeks. So I will be patient.