Monday, July 13, 2009

to pause

Inevitably the dreams on Saturday night were menacing and obscure, the first sleep in a new flat clearly designed (perhaps even pre-determined) to tap pointed fingers through the thin bubble of my consciousness. Basement flats attract very little natural light, but at least the fear of having a downstairs window broken while being upstairs, resting at the back of the mind as it has for years, can be calmed. I am not the only person to have this, am I? The sense of an imminent break-in while being elsewhere, always close enough to force CDs to be stopped or televisions to be muted at the slightest creak or scream? No...?

I cannot fathom how it is so late on a Monday night, actually. It seems the moving-in has occurred with the similar trip-switch rapidity which characterises most of this year so far. It's like a photo album with a soundtrack remixed by South Central or watching a video tape on fast-forward, images jarring and jump-edited amongst the washes of white-noise. Drinking much in Blackpool folds into eating a seafood lasagne on Mother's Day which merges into the counting of the votes which somehow takes me to yesterday on a sofa watching Poirot.

To pause, only for a day or so, would be good. Although inevitably there is no pausing at the moment. There are elections to be organised, so eager am I to show the people of Broadgate and Riversway that there is an alternative to the complacent and over-confident Labour councillors. I need to get back into writing and reviewing. There's a camping trip in Scotland. There's....house....stuff. The previous owners have donated a wine-rack, which is the surest sign and purest definition of temptation if ever I saw one.

Somebody somewhere asks, "Are you happy, though?", and I have to respond "Yes", because the rapid sense of movement is perhaps a case of "careful what you wish for" in reverse. Imagine time going slowly, so slowly, that the days seem to be filled only with the clicking of clocks or the dripping of taps, or the tapping of keyboar...No, er, yeah...Doing nothing all night, that would be unthinkable...