lost a day, or lost my entire grip on time… because something is not adding up. So my gardener has come every Sunday at 8am for the last 12 months. Same time. Same routine. Same “good morning” while I’m half-alive. This morning, I’m having a lie-in, minding my own business, when Nami starts doing her “Mum, someone’s at the door” alert. I drag myself up, open the door… and there he is. My gardener. Smiling. Tools in hand. Ready to go. I’m stood there like, “hmm… you’re a day early. You come on Sunday.” And he just shakes his head. No. Now, to be fair, he’s Indonesian and I’m English and my Indonesian is… well… let’s call it creative, so we may be deeply lost in translation here. But still. I’m stood there questioning everything. Have I slept for 48 hours? Is it secretly Sunday? Did Bali bend time again? Did I slip into another timeline without permission? We still haven’t got to the bottom of it. I’m just sat here with my coffee trying to figure out what the hell day it actually is. Honestly… send help. Or caffeine. Or both.