As I get older, I use less jewelry - necklace or earrings each morning, not both; my clothes are getting more basic - fewer colours and simpler cuts; and my make-up is stripped back to basics.

My father was often impatient during March, waiting for winter to end, the cold to ease, the sun to reappear. March was an unpredictable month, when it was never clear what might happen. Warm days raised hopes until ice and grey skies shut over the town again.

I have consistently loved books that I've read when I've been sick in bed.

That's how fossil hunting is: It takes over, like a hunger, and nothing else matters but what you find. And even when you find it, you still start looking again the next minute, because there might be something even better waiting.

I find that when I come out of the library I'm in what I call the library bliss of being totally taken away from the distractions of life.

We say very little, for we do not need to. We are silent together, each in her own world, knowing the other is just at her back.

Yes, well, life is a folly. If you live long enough, nothing is surprising.