Friday, 25 January 2013

He Doesn't Know What Time Of Day It Is

After soaking in the bath, the steam and heat sending me to sleep, I suddenly wondered how long I'd been lying there. It also struck me as odd that the house was perfectly silent, except for the rain overflowing from a blocked gutter. Where had everyone gone? Why wasn't the TV on? No-one was talking.

After the birth of my first daughter – I was only a boy of twenty one and still sensible enough not to have given in to having a car – I rode back from the hospital with its sterile lights and central heating. I peddled away from the city and felt, felt alive as the street-lights gave way to a country lane. It started to rain and it was the night of the spring solstice. I came to an inn and the idea of beer was too good to resist. For reasons that are inexplicable, other than the need to tell someone, I said to the barman that I was on my way back from the hospital. I'd just become a father. He finished pouring the brown beer and it looked very good. 'It's on me', he said.

I got back to my caravan and slept. Fully clothed. Childbirth is an exhausting business. When I woke, after a night of my brain fizzing and crackling, again and again with the image of my daughter's face, it was still dark. I didn't know if it was morning or night.

There were no lights on over at the farmhouse.
Looking out of my window now, the house
empty and silent I wonder
whether and when
things will get going again.


  1. thank you for sharing this miraculous moment of life with us, Jonathan. wonderfully done!

    1. Thank you. By the way, what time is it?

    2. the answer is now, i suppose. i smile.



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