WEDNESDAY 1 JANUARY
10.05 AM. Grey misty sky, fine rain, wind gusting.
"When you are going through hell keep on going." Winston Churchill.
The world appears to be dead, the road below my bedroom window is bereft of car's, so very unusual for our long winding road. Noise is absent from the outside where commuter traffic usually clogs the street.
All that I can here is Edward snoring beside me in our bed his back turned face towards the open bedroom door. Which is just as well as he coughs and snorts like a pig most of the night. Our bedroom is filled with shadows and so still it is almost a challenge to breath in case a sigh shakes the walls and bring's down the whole house.
My fingers are freezing cold holding this new A 4 size diary and clasping the pen. The rest of my being is sheltered by the duvet apart from my upper body that rests warmly in the pink wool of my Eyelash knitt jumper that still retains a whiff of perfume from its last outing.
11.30 AM Edward my husband has just woken farting loudly. I am hungry. The swoosh of three cars passing our house must indicate that the world is waking. Recovering more like from a night of excessive drinking.
A sudden movement in the slats of number ten's window blinds across the way defiantly shows that other people out there are alive besides me.
EDWARD GUARDS OUR FRONT DOOR IN BRIGHTFIELD ROAD, LEE.
No comments:
Post a Comment