Up early, dishes, vitamins, kettle, thermos, pear cream tea, purple fingerless gloves. I went to the graveyard this morning determined to know it, then love it. If you spend enough time in one place, you begin to love it, if only to stop from hurting yourself, hating it. But the graveyard ten metres from my door is easy to love, and I don't know it at all yet--I got lost this morning, and had to scan around in a full circle to find the section of regulation military graves that points me back home. It's the most peaceful quadrant, furthest away from the freeway that most of the other graves overlook. In between the rows of identical grey headstones, there are a few flat stones, for the wives. The oldest graves are from the 30s, their stones heaved up by tree roots. Almost shocking: a time capsule in the city. And grass under my feet, rain, not a living soul in sight.