S.

S is a relatively new team member. The far side of middle-aged; a friendly, maternal woman. Slightly overweight with greying hair, she lives alone with her two beloved cats. This lack of human interaction at home coupled with the need for social acceptance, she's the type you must set aside a good twenty minutes for should you be brave enough to ask the dreaded question 'How are you?'.

"How's it going S?"

"Oh the usual - I didn't sleep a wink last night"

"Oh dear, why's that?"

"Well you know I'm going on that solo cruise in a few weeks?"

How could that ever slip my mind...

"I was reading reviews online last night and they're full of horror stories. Older men stalking single women who are travelling alone"

"I really wouldn't worry - they always post the worst stories online and I'm sure they embellish most of them..."

"To be honest, I thought that, but then I came across this story of a single British woman who was persistently harassed by an American man who wanted her to go to dinner with him"

"To cut a long story short, she kept refusing and in the end, he tried to attack her in her cabin"

"That sounds like an urban legend if ever I've heard one"

"I hope you're right. I love my cruises but I could never bring myself to go on another one if someone tried to attack me whilst I slept"

"Like I said S, I really wouldn't worry - you'll be fine"

"Well it's like my Dad said last night: if someone wants to rape me in my cabin at my age, I should leave the door unlocked"

And with deadpan execution, amidst colleagues grinning at their computer screens, she shuffled away leaving me to contemplate the conversation we had just exchanged.

Toastgate.

The MD, Big J has an obvious distaste for temporary members of staff.

"You won't believe the sheer audacity of what I witnessed in the kitchen this morning"
"Whilst preparing my cereal, S walked in - brazen as you like and began making toast!"

".........."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again"

Masking my blatant look of confusion, I begin to draft my first departmental email of the day.

There are some people on this earth that we are destined never to understand.

On reflection.

Several dead and over one hundred people injured in a series of explosions at the Boston Marathon.

I have spent the past few hours pouring over amateur footage of the tragic events. Video phones portraying an elated carnival atmosphere torn to pieces by deadly blasts, runners sprinting for their lives, emergency teams risking everything by darting headfirst into the ensuing chaos. Graphic images showing the true extent of terrorism. Early reports suggest that an eight-year-old child is amongst the dead; an innocent youngster without even a thought or opinion on the fabricated religious farce that drives this kind of act.

Terrorism saddens me. It breaks my heart to the point that I can no longer stand it. My mind becomes confused, tangled beyond comprehension and I cry. I cry for humans - both victims and perpetrators as, in their own ways, both are lost within the twisted world in which we live.

It belittles me and consumes me with guilt. How dare I sit and quibble over the fact that my day has not gone quite to plan; that the minutiae of my daily routine didn't quite tesselate to my complete satisfaction. My day in which no-one was hurt, no-one was maliciously targeted and, above all, no-one died.

Perspective is a personal concept and these old minds of ours find it a hard concept to conquer. Trust me, I refuse to give up. Though I may not claim to be the next Sigmund Freud (heaven help us if I am) but I do firmly believe that healthy perspective is the key to inner peace and finding it is one of the greatest ambitions any human can have.

An absolution that we can only pray this world some day finds.

Oh Sunday.

I've had the ultimate relaxing Sunday; slept until late morning, enjoyed a full-english breakfast and basked in the sunshine of the garden. Adam's mum is looking after Skye this weekend, so I had the ideal opportunity to have the ferrets in the sun lounge for a much needed runaround. They really are the most adorable little creatures, dooking and jumping through their tubes - it's just a shame that Skye doesn't really share the same opinion.

We made the spur of the moment decision to drive over to Sainsbury's yesterday evening to buy some cocktail equipment and a basket load of spirits. I'm not 100% sure where the incentive came from but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with an old Desperate Housewives re-run that happened to be on TV at some point. Needless to say, we now have the urge to build ourselves a minibar though I haven't the faintest idea where we could put one. Adam will find somewhere, he always does. He turns this house into Mary Poppins' bag - give him an hour of rearranging and I reckon he could find room for a small African republic upstairs. Having said that, I'm dubious as to what lurks underneath each of the spare beds.

And now Sunday, the day of rest is almost over. I'm contemplating prizing myself from the sofa, ready to navigate the stairs to bed but part of me despairs at the idea of wasting the final precious moments of the weekend. I'm a nightmare that way. I've always been a night owl, absolutely detesting the idea of going to bed - unfortunately for me, this often results in too many late nights and I'm one of the most loathsome of humans first thing in the morning. I've noticed that my work colleagues have started giving me a wide birth when I first walk in at 9am. To be honest, I've tried convincing myself that it's down to how busy everyone is. I know I'm wrong, but a little self-delusion never did anyone any harm, did it?

Mustering.

Despite the sun's sudden emergence from what seems like an eternal hibernation, the air has remained bitterly cold over the past few days. English weather is a trickster; it tries it's damn hardest to dupe you into throwing on jeans and a t-shirt, only to find yourself cutting glass the minute you step outside the front door. It can be both depressing and amusing.

I took advantage of the beautiful sunset and took Skye for a woodland walk yesterday. It was so nice amongst the trees; waves of golden light flooding through the bare branches, spring draughts whistling through the undergrowth. I managed to snap a few photographs before becoming genuinely concerned by Skye's persistant attempts to hang herself from various boughs. Suicidal hound.

I've found myself rattling around the house on my lonesome quite a lot lately due to Adam constantly being at work. I'm 9 to 5 and he works shifts; unfortunately, his shifts are awkward times meaning that I am either at work or in bed by the time he finishes. I'm often banging on about how I love my 'me' time but, like all human beings, I'm also inclined to moan when it swings completely the other way. I guess you just can't win in these little old minds of ours. I suppose I also resent (a little) the fact that I am always left with the dog to look after despite being reassured by Adam that he would ensure he would undertake the majority of her care. Yes, I was the one that wasn't too keen on getting a dog - not because I don't love them but I've grown up with them and know just how much attention a young dog needs. Suffice to say, I gave in to Adam's constant badgering and now he is almost always at work.

Oh well, Skye is happy enough - I'm sure I can push my selfish needs aside for the time being. We were thinking of taking her to the beach on Saturday. No doubt you'll see us on some news report; found frozen to death in some northern cove. We should question our mental sanity really but I'm sure she'll enjoy it.

In the grand scheme of things, life is good. During a week of crazy news involving parents murdering their own children in house fires and countries attempting to provoke war, all we can do is take a breath and muster the strength to soldier on, enjoying everything we are blessed to have.

After all, it really isn't too much to muster.