For the past two months I've been scouring the house for my little black notebook.
The one with the electrician's phone number in it.
Yesterday it turned up - half buried in a pile of papers I used for my masters research project, a pile that I should have tidied up a month ago.
Something has been stopping me putting it all away - the cuttings, the papers, the text books, the course notes.
I've moved my Leicester Uni student library card out of my purse now and that was almost physically painful.
Sometimes letting go is very hard.
