Friday morning

Driving to work this morning, small things caught my eye: the torn fragment of a driver's L-plate laying in the road, the bright yellow colour of the overly-large T-shirt worn by a man jogging down the path beside me, the friendly chatter of two school girls on the opposite side of the road. The grey sky hadn't quite given in to rain, and a cool breeze wafted the sounds of radios, conversation and birdsong through the open windows as I sat and waited in the stillness of gridlocked traffic at the mini-roundabout.

I see most of these sights everyday, and experience similar feelings. Annoyance at the four-by-four hovering millimeters behind me. Joy at the sight and smell of the beautiful gardens lined with lavender and roses along the way. A quote from Marcus Aurelius came to mind: "ask yourself, am I afraid of death because I won't be able to do this anymore?"

It's hard to escape the significance of today's date. I have to pass through London later today, and I'll be remembering not just the events of last year, but the quiet, mundane smallness of my own daily life.