When I woke up on Thursday morning the shed had been blown over on its side like a Monopoly piece. I'd been awake for a few hours before I actually noticed, and it was utterly dislocating to see. I felt powerless. When I went to bed on Thursday night Nelson Mandela had just died. I lit candles - these rituals we have because we don't know what else to do - and shed a fair few tears at some of the television footage. I was due to have a short story in the Scotsman this weekend but it has been postponed because they needed space for tributes. It's something of an honour to have been nudged over by Nelson. The shed is happily fixed (thanks to neighbours and joiners), and I'm now brimming with Mandela memories. So much to link to but I will just link to these: Nadine Gordimer in The New Yorker; Marina Hyde in The Guardian; Teju Cole in The New Inquiry; this by Musa Okwonga; and Jon Snow's blog .