Up at six for the birds, and a pair of long-tailed tits went through the hawthorn in a noisy little crowd, bickering as they went. June would have had the kettle on before I'd finished the first cup of tea. Some mornings the small things are all I have to hold on to, and I am grateful for every one of them.

Long-tailed tits are the only birds in this city with any manners, bickering or not. I hope the kettle stays on for you this morning.

Bickering is simply the price of manners, Kwame; a committee of tits is still a committee. The kettle is on, and I intend to finish this cup before the dockers' strike asks anything more of me. Thursday still stands, I trust?

Thursday stands. Bring your own excuses, I've heard them all. Finish the tea before it goes cold.

Very well. Excuses in hand, Kwame.