Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday – and all is well.

 I do love the wisdom of fridge magnets..... as I am sitting on the patio listening, to the bird song while not understanding a word of it and admiring the first roses which are budding in spite of being woefully neglected and am trying to focus on the laptop and the plan for the day. The weekly invoices are done, my job on  a Wednesday morning while  the bread is being baked by others and I relish my lie in till 6am. Summer is such an amazing time when we spent whatever time we can outside, when we plan the summer holidays and looking at the garden, planning that half an hour – surely that has to be there in the day – to pull some weeds, buy a new pot for the camelia and rescue the strawberries from the ever encroaching grass , brambles and sticky, windy stuff that I don’t know the name off. Summary of progress:  no dawn chorus because I was sick, no running because I was sick and first circuit again yesterday with a first run being contemplated as I write. If progress is not giving up, progress it is. By any other definition, I am not so sure.

Today, everything is coloured by thoughts of the people who wake up today to the first day without their daughter or son, the first day of their life forever changed as they try and deal with whatever injuries they got, the first day of dealing with the fact that your son did all this. Somehow because it happens in Manchester, in a place we nearly adopt as our own, it all comes closer to home. Somehow, because it involves children, it hurts more. None of this should be so. People die violently every day in some conflict in the world and lives are changed horribly every day. But even in this age of total information and easy communication, distance still matters and some things we feel much more intense than others as we settle into this new age of terrorist attacks which are aimed at us, at our lifestyle, our inherent comfort, our entertainment and security. The aim is to spread fear and panic but it will not work. It won’t work because somewhere in all of us, still lives the stubborn hero who won’t be defeated. Somewhere in our so soft culture of an easy life, still lives the instict that says we won’t be beaten. As other generations before us, who rose to wars with death and destruction, to food shortages and hunger, so will we rise to the new war which this time is targeted at us directly. We are the targets and the combatants and we do not know how to fight back because our attackers are invisible. How do we get ready for this, how do we deal with this? Do we  train up on first aid and martial art so we are able to help and kick ass should we be close enough. Do we light our candles today and stand together in strength and compassion? Maybe we’ll do both but can we please refrain from hatred and the senseless persecution of peoples and religions.

I keep coming back to the writers of the blasket islands who quoted a saying of their time which loosely translated goes “We only have our time and when that is done it does not matter whether we row the wild waters in our boats or hide in an anthill”. They lived a very tough life in the firm belief that every life had its time and that time only. I say a special prayer today for those who torture themselves with “had I not bought that ticket” and “had I not put on this gig” – for all those who think that their actions – had they only be different -  could have averted this terrible evening. There is no “if only” in life.

So I reckon, when the pathetic circuit training stops hurting and when I can hold a plank for longer than 10 seconds, I will move onto some kind of martial art and I will practise my first aid and I can’ t think of anything else that could be useful. So I light my candles, I pray and I hope that all people affected by terror will find hope and strength and support in others and I hope that we will all rise to the challenge and never give in to fear. Somehow, this week, the normal struggles and pressures of running a business and a family have become trivial and gratitude has again been returned to its rightful place. For today, for now, all is well in this life and that is enough.