A Day to Change the World

The thing about standing still is the past starts catching up with you.

We’d slept with the window open and the fresh air made me feel like it would be a good day. I remembered to feel thankful that the babies had stayed in another day and that we are heading for the magical 28 week mark. I’d woken up from a series of dreams where I had to justify my actions to people who I felt I owed an explanation to. Two are too personal to mention. One was more metaphorical. I found myself explaining to the Controller of BBC4 (a stand in for the sort of chap you can’t bullshit) why I should be allowed to enrol in his arts course. Was I someone who considered themselves to have a wide range of friends and interests? Was I someone with something to say? In my dream I thought he was really asking if I was interesting enough to contribute something of worth to the world. I bollocked on but could tell he didn’t buy it. When I woke up I felt a sense of opportunity. Like I had to do something more important with my life or at least do something meaningful for me. Maybe it’s just the knowledge that this is the last time I will have for myself for a very long time.

So I built some flatpack, did the washing up and went back to sleep, ate a Magnum in the garden and had a good old bitch about work with my colleague who came round to visit. Then spent an hour fishing a lost diamond earring out from under the floorboards (had I taken the trouble to look for it earlier in the day when I noticed it was missing I would have discovered it in my bottomless cleavage before it dropped out and could have saved myself the time bending coat hangers). I have just finished cooking dinner in advance like a 1950s housewife and resumed sitting in my deckchair.

A day well spent then. Is the world a better place yet?


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