Took my boots off after training and sat on the low wall rather than getting straight into the car, because my thighs were still doing that faint shaky thing after the last sprint and the cool air felt lovely on my face. My socks were wet enough to be offensive, but for once I hadn't noticed until I stopped moving. One of the girls passed me my sandwich and I ate it leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, properly hungry, not just having lunch because it was one o'clock. By the time I stood up the shaking had gone and the stiffness was arriving. Mam asked how training went and I said grand, before giving her the full report anyway.

I was looking at a house near the river online and caught myself arranging furniture in rooms I haven't even stood in, down to where we'd put the shoes. My boyfriend said the kitchen looked small and I immediately explained how it would work, though all I'd done was believe the photograph. Sure I'd be a marvellous estate agent to myself. I've put the pictures away for tonight and I'm trying to work out what we would actually need, not what looks like a grown-up life in a brochure. Somewhere to dry camogie gear without it hanging over the sofa ought to be higher on the list than the very tasteful front door.

A friend told me something upsetting about her relationship and said, very gently, could I just listen and not work out what she was feeling for a minute. I was a small bit stung, which is embarrassing to admit when she was the one having a bad evening, but I had thought I was helping and suddenly felt like I was performing helping. I did listen after that. Still wanted to supply the right word every time she paused, as if she'd be marked down for leaving it unnamed. When we hung up I felt fond of her and slightly useless. Those can apparently happen together without either being a problem somebody needs me to solve.