9.44am He stands by the window, waiting, waiting. Waiting for his father to collect him for the weekend. He waits for the sound of his dads car at the end of the road. I sit on the sofa watching him waiting. He is late, ten minutes late. He doesn’t like it when he is late.
13.18pm (in the studio) It is a relief that the din of the chainsaws has stopped and the tranquility of pit pat rain is all that I hear. Rain falls. The leaves fall, forming huge piles at the sides of the road. The piles are sodden. Swept mountains of summer gone. P is in surgery,
6.07am (sat on the sofa sipping tea and writing) Its dark, the sound of the river, birds waking, the train passing on the tracks behind the house the cars whooshing. I am still. Eyes adjusting to the electric light of the laptop. Completed the washing up, hadn’t the energy to battle the boys with it
9.43 am (in the studio) I have been awake since 5am. I am worried and anxious. I cannot rest. I am going around and around in circles. I hope that I get some interviews from the jobs I applied for. I need some hope, I need a door and a way through. I know that
8.10 am (at the table in the front room) Dare I even attempt to write this, why the hell not. Naoise is dressed and had his breakfast, bags packed, scooters at the ready. All we need to do is get his teeth brushed, shoes on and we can slide down the hill to school on
8.30am (sat on the sofa covered in blankets) Naoise is snoozing in bed. Its Monday but for Naoise the half term holiday ends tomorrow. Today he has a lucky day at home with me as its one of those random teacher training days. We will fill the time with drawing, the homework that was never
7.59am (sat on the sofa under blankets) Its foggy outside. There are cars passing on the main road. The washing machine is silent. I put on a wash around six when I got up for a glass of water and I fed it dirty clothes then. Its still. Its done its job. Its having a
8.58 am Someone is a wake. I was hoping that they would stay asleep so I could write this. I have been up for an hour. Pottering. Hanging washing on the laundry rack and the radiator. Putting towels into the tumble dryer. I think its P I can hear, not the little steps of little
Naoise wibbly wobbly tooth fell out. Syd got his hair cut super short and cool at Nathans. We all shared a delicious £5 margarita pizza from Marcos. Then spent 5.5 hours in traffic circling the Manchester ring road trying to get to a World War 1 exhibition at Durham Massey, which I thought would be
Fell asleep putting Naoise to bed, just woke up with all my clothes on. Bra suffocating me. Heavy rain on skylight. Long dat but its now tomorrow. 2am in the morning. P hasn’t come home after his works outing. I suspect very drunk and missed the last train. Mixture of concern and annoyance that he
