It’s 2019 — May Your Writing Disturb the Universe

Today’s the day.

Time to get back into the world after almost two weeks off for Christmas. It’s painful though. We adapt with ease to our lives of idleness. Small chores, like unloading the dishwasher, soon become the melodrama du jour. Genuine effort becomes intolerable.

Now though, it’s time to peel my eyes away from the computer and leave my haven for the harsh reality of Stuff To Do.


The Haven

My study is twilit by design, and for good reason. It’s a place of peace and quiet, down a tiny side corridor off the backbone of our home. Enough light to see the keyboard and read.

It’s cosy too. Fire up a first-person-shooter and the graphics card will keep you toasty forever. When it’s cold outside, one more monster fragged keeps the chill at bay.

But now, wading knee-deep through chocolate wrappers out to civilisation seems unnatural. A fountain of empty peanut packets erupting from the waste basket recalls many a happy movie. Alas, groceries don’t grow on trees and the car needs fettling.

Adding to the ennui we have rain.

Not just any rain either. It’s the kind of rain common in west Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Yellowy-green reflecting the ground. Lingering and wetting, like living in a glass kettle.

Marooned

Workers laying a new water main have reached us and closed the lane outside, so we’re marooned. Giant yellow and orange machines rattle and growl, moving spoil from one place to another.

Recalling the old saying, “There’s no such thing as the wrong weather, only the wrong clothes”, I resolved to light a fire in the wood-burning stove and not look outside. Groceries can wait until tomorrow.

Comfort First

Everyone who has a wood-burning stove knows what I mean. There’s something reassuring and restorative about the orange glowing heat.

The heat seems to soak into the core of your being, warming your bones from the inside out. Fanciful maybe but that’s what it feels like.

“Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time 
For who knows where the time goes?”
Lyrics by Fairport Convention

And with the fire lit, doggo curled in front, perfectly too hot, we resolve to re-join the outside world a bit at a time.

Grotty weather has inadvertently added a welcome staging post.

Silence is Golden

Today will be an around the house day as we accustom ourselves to the term-time sounds once more. Gone is the chatter of Fortnite machine-guns and meeting teenage daughters in headphones flitting between flat-screens.

Instead there’s the silence. Wonderful silence. I can hear the fan on my laptop and my wife typing at her desk. The diesel engines outside have stopped for lunch, and who can blame them in this weather.

Pass Me My Pen…

I’m awakened now by extra coffee, my sharpened senses rendering acceptability to the world. Motivation returns alongside it and I sense aspiration is nothing more than monetised coffee buzz.

Yes, it’s 2019, time to start writing once more. Disturbing the universe if we dare.