As is often the case when I am alone in London, for dinner I had a big tomato, a slice of feta cheese, and a bunch of olives. The tomato was so big that I had to leave an entire quarter of it. As I am going back to Reading tomorrow morning, and as I am returning to London in three days, I had to chuck it away. “Sorry,” I muttered with feeling while I was cutting the tomato into smaller chunks and stuffing them into the kitchen disposal. It was a good tomato, too. Only then I realized I had no idea to whom I was addressing my apology. The tomato itself? Mother nature? The starving masses around the world? In the end I realized there was no-one else but my own self I could have apologized to. If one is not careful, one can easily mistake one’s own self for all kinds of spooks.