Right now, I’m alone. Paul’s taken Jake out and I’ve tidied the flat, Jake’s toys and my digital photo albums. What I’m supposed to be doing is making sketches for possible projects. But I’ve got this feeling that if I even outline the ideas that have been flowing through my head, if I even commit a shadowy skeleton of them to paper, they will disappear. It feels good to be the only one to see them right now. Even writing about sketching them feels risky. I can’t begin till I have all my materials anyway. And they haven’t arrived yet.