Things can’t always go smoothly – can they? There has to be a balance between good and bad, light and shade – yin and yang. Without contrast life would be dull and flat, happiness would have no reference point, likewise the opposite; we’d all be like dummies enduring the sameness of somebody’s version of utopia. Would we even remember anything?

Yesterday was a day to remember that I’d really rather forget. For the most-part it was a yin, dark trough of a wave, sort of day. I had struggled for hours, unsuccessfully trying to get my super duper art printer to recognise instructions from my computer; and I was deep in frustration and bad temper when Chris came, ashen-faced, into my studio.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I don’t know whether or not I should tell you,” he said, “but someone has been run down and cut in half outside.”

“On the pavement?” I queried, unable to grasp how such a thing could happen.

“No, on the other side – on the railway line,” answered Chris solemnly, “the police are there. Don’t look.”

And I didn’t look but I was haunted by the horror in my imagination. I was angry at Chris for looking and angry at the person who threw his or her life away on a yin day and, in so doing, also damaged the train-driver and policemen and family and friends… and the people walking along the seawall and the folk who happen to live in the houses above the railway line. Even so, I worked until late, until the printer responded and I had several fine prints to show for the miserable day. Neither Chris nor I could eat our fish fingers at dinnertime and I dared not step too close to the balustrade on our balcony whilst I watered the plants in the evening…

Then, before bedtime, when I went into the bathroom I saw that the water in the pan was brown, also the water running from the taps in the sink.

“Don’t worry,” said Chris, “it’s just the mains supply. I expect it will be clear in the morning.”

The brown water cleared at around eleven o’clock this morning, at around the same time that the sun came out and cheered the flowers and the lonely table and chairs on our terrace. We’re not expecting anything particularly earth-shattering to happen today. Uneventful would be good. I’d be happy just to finish the task of printing and framing in readiness for Mamhead village fete on Sunday.