“Wake me up when September ends.”
I’ve good things on my horizon: tonight a visit from my expat sis, so why do odd thoughts crowd in? A clumsy comment. An undiplomatic swipe. An unacknowledged kindness. A half-forgotten task left undone at work. Events long past, forgotten, I thought, even by me. Why didn’t I ask, that time? Could I have helped? Things I wanted to ask my Dad. Is there any way of unlocking Mum’s fading memories? “Will you still need me / will you still feed me / when I’m 64?”
An itch on the side of my nose. A tickle at the back of my neck. Another borborygmus – I love that word. Are there enough spuds in the cupboard? What shall we have for pud? Did I miss a text from sis? Where did I put my phone? Waterloo – that infuriating Abba song blunders into my brain. Let’s swamp it out with “You fill up my senses / like a night in the forest...”Shall we go to see the Northern Lights? Will I get a chance to start some Christmas letters? How could I forget to respond to those two lovely emails? What about that Madagascar reunion? And the kindle version of my lemur book? And the next Wanderlust piece? Should I get that knee op? And I must call the bank / insurance / optician / dentist/ bike shop... Now my bladder starts signalling unnecessarily. 5am. Intestines ask why-oh-why-oh-why? Maybe a stimulating cup of coffee will send me back to sleep.
While the kettle boils, I make a list – with one thing on it.Back to bed. The cosy covers will warm my toes. An early-bird car rushes by – some poor soul is off to work already. A click and our hot water system starts up. 6ish. Empty the head. Concentrate on a black velvet curtain.
Maybe I’ll fall asleep five minutes before the alarm wakes me again.