I picked roses from my garden this morning and arranged them in a bowl. They are beside me as I write. Their scent is with me, delicate and beautiful. There are ones I have bought and planted, ones that were here when I arrived, and one that comes a great grandmother, a burnet rose with flowers that are small white balls held by dark green calyxes. The bowl I have put them in belonged to my mother, decorated with a blue and white Chinese pattern. My mother made sherry trifle in this bowl.

I’m sad this morning. The news from Manchester is terrible, all those shattered lives. I went into town so as not to be alone, and had coffee sitting in North Street. The town seemed quieter than usual, although I may have imagined that. A young woman came past who I know, whose family live in Manchester. I got up to greet her, gave her a hug, got a hug in return, and felt a little better. I’d shared a little love and a little sadness.

Tomorrow I set out on my Baltic adventure. In the night I received an email from the organiser of the Biodanza Festival that starts my trip which put me in touch with someone who will show me around Riga when I arrive and travel with me to the festival. This is exciting and joyful, and I find in myself this mixture of sadness and joy, and I wonder to what extent that is what it means to be human.

I live a long way from Manchester, and I’m not directly affected. The sadness I feel is strangely similar to the sadness I felt on the morning we decided to leave Europe. On that occasion I was ashamed to be British, but this morning the feeling is different. I am proud to be British, to be part of a country that will take care of the people who are injured or bereaved. I know this will happen. So I set out on my adventure with a certain love for my country and all the people who live here that I did not have yesterday, as I go to find out a little of what it is like to be Latvian or Estonian.

I keep looking at the bowl of roses, their scent drawing me in. A small spider has clambered out from somewhere, and now sits motionless on one of the petals.

I end with a certain confusion. I have no particular place to comment today, and really understand nothing of the tragedy in Manchester. But I want to send love and compassion and caring thoughts as I try to weave the knowledge of this desperately sad event into my little life.