Off to Rome. I thought the snow at dawn might save me from hours in taxis, trains,planes. Cracking on with the edit for my novel with the fires burning and the dogs checking up on me has been calm, steadying with dreams not nightmares. I had been so crushed by the Chinese water dragon entering the year - I lost everything that week - but slowly, slowly I am seeing again and setting things down. Dominic Jones made the long journey North to see me. We told stories of metal and stone. There's a different note to the birdsong - the first scribbles just before dawn sound like ice melting.