This is not a good day. I’m writing my book and reliving parts of the past I’d forgot. I’m preparing to drive back to Leeds. I arrived in Warwickshire with Foley who was well. He had a wet nose, healthy appetite and could still run around in the park.
I’m driving home without him. I know ‘especially taking the horrid happenings in the world to account’ it may seem dramatic. But I loved him so much. He was a daily part of all that I did. Driving back to Yorkshire without my best friend is going to hurt. He was innocent, harmless, so pure and forgiving. An unconditional friend that loved me no matter what.
Today, I’ve just felt down in the dumps. I tell myself how must the family feel of the lady who was killed in London by senseless murderers. She’d just taken her two children to school…
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