Yesterday morning, bright and early (or "stupid o'clock" as one of my university flatmates would refer to it), I saw my fiancee off at the airport. She'll be away for a month. I'm surprised at how hard I've taken it, actually. Part of it, I suspect, is the little paranoid fear that she won't come back. This is silly, of course, but it's still there.

I am in, one might say, a funk. And not the good kind, with Tower of Power and Roy Ayres. A blue one. Which is no good at all.