Idling in the courtyard

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For Basil, some more idleness, although it's always better the first time...

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It's March. Pinch yourself. Remember it's still only the fourth of March. Back in London, it might be sunny some days, but still with the chill of winter, only just receding. Here it's sixty something degrees when you get up and into the seventies after lunch.

Breathe. That warm air, scented with whatever those plants are, around whatever that tree is in the middle of wherever this courtyard is. Breathe and let the mind wander. There is nothing more to do for now. Yes, at some point Robert will come bustling through one of those doors, having done whatever it is that he's doing and bundle you off into the car, back home or on some other exciting trip around Silicon Valley, but for now you can breathe and listen and feel the warm breeze on your face and let your eyes trace the wriggly branches of that big old tree and taste the bubblegum-flavoured sugar-free gum that you're rolling around in your mouth.

You could sleep, or snooze at least. There's time. No-one's going to interrupt you. You don't have to do anything, make anything, be anything. There'll be plenty of time for that. You don't have to work it all out, you can press pause on all that and trust that everything will turn out just fine, the way it always does. Except when it doesn't and even then, in the end, good news/bad news style, it really does turn out jut fine.

Other people might want to sit in the sunshine. Let them want that. People back home might want to hear from you. Let them want that. Someone might be wondering what you're doing here, on your own, doing nothing. Let them wonder that.

Wait. He's doing a live broadcast. You could listen in, go on, get your earbuds, there'll be a link on Twitter, it'll be good, you'll be able to talk about it later.

No. Stop. Put those buds back in the bag. If you need to hear this (you won't) you can listen tonight when you can't get to sleep.

You're going to go far, my son. Why? Because you've got a long way to go. Tomorrow, you'll be on the move again, but just for today your contribution to all that is done. Be still. And breathe.