October 14

October the 14th was a beautiful day last year as well. I remember sitting in the sun with my writing group, my hair still wet from swimming. There's a photo of me from that weekend, I look very young, very happy and very relaxed.

I am a historian and a storyteller, and an introvert - of course I look backwards. I have always marked anniversaries of joy, heartbreak or change. I find it hard not to as the seasons change; the length and direction of the shadows are so evocative.

This time round, in this lot of sunshine, I have been remembering not just what I was doing a year ago, but what Aaron Pascoe was doing a year ago. I imagine him making sure there were enough guns for each officer, and making sure all the door breaking down routinues were properly established. The sunshine becomes creepy.

It makes me want to write poetry (and I can't write poetry). As if by putting space around my words I'll be able to make them express more. I expect I will write more over the next four weeks. As each day passes I will think about what was happening a year ago. Remember my stressed, manic, passionate, worried, loving, confused, fighting self. I will remember the people around me, and that together we did extraordinary things.