Small pots of gold

• A stranger gave me her newspaper on the train this morning, complete with a smile. This was a nice gesture as I hadn't had time to pick one up.

• My buses came quickly. I ran for my train and caught it. Got seats on all the forms of public transport I took – no mean feat.

• My friend, J, emailed me, full of concern after reading a recent blog entry. Having someone (who isn't my next of kin) be so forceful with advice touched me and made me super-aware of three things: 1) friendship definitely shows its true colours in times of need; 2) R, who I thought was a good, solid friend, is not. Her remarks about insomnia, which I talk about infrequently, have been startlingly flippant – and she didn't invite me to her birthday drinks but told me how 'great' it was (weirdo); 3) I do need to sort myself out, pronto, and put my wellbeing above other issues (such as R: I cannot be bothered...). Or, I will not be here to deal with 'issues'. That's how serious it is.

• As I chatted to S on my mobile while standing outside the office, telling him properly how worried I am about the way I feel, a butterfly fluttered around me, back and forth, back and forth. It was stunning – orange, black, red – possibly a Red Admiral, seeking flowers in the heart of a dusty City. Words caught in my throat as I watched it soar. S and my parents have been swept up in the hurricane of my insomnia and been somewhat battered by it; they worry a lot. So, talking about it very seriously was only good. My decision to do something was resolute.

• Through my week-long headache and fog, I can now see a lighthouse. It is there, beaming at me in the distance. There is occasional fog forecast but that's par for the course with lighthouses, eh?

• I spoke to my dear dad, who recommended some herbal tablets that I'd heard about for years but never tried. I bought some and felt the underlying coldness leave my body an hour after taking them. This is promising. And I found the energy to laugh and chat to my colleagues.

• The PR woman for someone I'd been chasing for an interview called and said 'yes'.

• My boss is a lovely woman. I can talk to her about my insomnia and she listens and recommends things to help. And she told me, as we said goodnight with a kiss on the cheek (this is not what we usually do – this was spontaneous affection), that I could work from home tomorrow. Wonderful.

• As I rode home in the bus, it rained for a minute, just a minute. A cloudburst and then it stopped. Then, as I walked, I saw a glorious rainbow. I almost cried at the beauty of the evening. The roads were quiet, the rain made the pavements shine and there was a post-rain stillness in the air, as well as the curve of colours. Flowers and leaves dripped glinting raindrops on to grass and pavements. You could almost hear the Earth breathing gently as the sun's rays dazzled it.

• And, I've just had a message from Ground Floor Girl, with whom S and I had an amiable drink the other night. She has sent me the details of someone she knows who can do acupuncture, which she says has sorted out her energy levels. Excellent. GFG is an example of when good neighbours become good friends... Ahem.