It's the usual summer Sunday. The day begins with many plans. Groceries are to be bought and cleaning to be done. Old things to be discarded and new fixtures to be installed. Before you know it the heat has got into your head and under your skin and burnt your good intentions to a fine crisp, no smoke even. Going out into the intensity of the growing afternoon is now completely ruled out. And I sit at my computer screen and decide to catch up on that paper that is refusing to write itself, that demands more attention than I have been willing to give it. Sentence by short sentence, I make progress, and it begins to take shape...more in my mind than in MS Word, but nevertheless, I am beginning to discern its outline. The bell rings and my somnolent daughter is roused to go answer it. She comes back quickly with a question on her face and a slightly embarrassed smile: the visitors are for me. Something that happens only rarely. The three young people at the door are smiling and l
making sense of the everyday