24 April 2008


I like sleeping with the window open, even if there's a bit of a chill. Especially when the rain falls. The breeze gives the rain drops a pleasing hiss, like a needle on good vinyl. A proper acoustic crackle. It helps me sleep. It's pleasing to wake up to. The hush of the wind in the window reminds me of the sea, or holding a shell to my ear. 

The current Belfry is an attic room. The ceiling slopes on all sides and it's easy to feel removed from the world. This can be a good thing, from time to time, but the noise from outside provides an anchor to the world without distracting me or drawing me to it. The gardens below don't generate much noise. There isn't much to spy or eavesdrop on. 

I woke up at about 3... it felt like 7. I didn't even notice how dark the room was. It could have been dawn. 3:04 on my phone. I battered my pillows and tucked my duvet a bit. Couldn't check the Sox score. Sleep drifted back now and then and then it was 4 and my eyes shot open. It felt like 7 again. More pillow battering and more fiddling with the duvet... considered briefly stapling my eyes shut. Can't remember if I actually slept or drifted or dreamed. 

Five rolled on and I got up. And I listened. I listened and finally worked out what I was hearing. Like an image coming into focus, white noise becoming music. Birdsong, actually. The light out the window was pale, the haar thick, and through the sea fog came an orchestra of birdsong. I wiped my eyes but there was no sleep in them. They sang in force, heralding the coming Spring. I smiled. 

Then I shut the window. The needle slipped from the vinyl and I slipped back to bed. 

I woke at seven, not at six. 


Veronica said...

Very thought provoking.
Somehow you hit a place I can feel. And use the same Words, but completely different Wording. It's been a long time since someone's done this to me. I keep reWording this in my head.
Please see that for the compliment it is. Your Words are staying. And working me.

Veronica said...

It's as if, I can't stop wanting to make your Words, mine.

Richard said...

Thanks veronica. That's quite a unique compliment. I'm trying to find something I lost, but it's never the same as it was when you lost it.