Today, everything is possible. This is why I got up at ten to six instead of pulling the sheets over my head and going back to sleep, as I’ve got into the habit of doing over the winter. This morning I saw the sun come up, heard the first bird – not a blackbird but a rook cawing – and even though everything was covered in frost, I had an inkling of spring.
Five hours and two paragraphs of writing later (I know – that’s slow) I’m still in the kitchen (detail from kitchen dresser above, note the Rennies). My feet are almost numb, but I now have an idea for a short piece of (fictional) writing on ‘psychology’, which I’m doing for a Frank Hinton e-book project.
This piece of writing has caused me some (self-inflicted but minor) problems in that I don’t generally like writing to someone else’s theme. But as everything is possible today, at some point – probably after another coffee – I’m going to make a start on it.