Bed

It’s funny how the smallest change can alter one’s point of view.

I’ve moved my bed. Ever since it was dripped on I’ve not wanted to put it back where it was. My view is different. I now face the window full on. I have a face full of sky. I see less trees but more sky. It feels odd. My dreams have changed, I’m certain of it. Is it Feng Shui at work? And this morning I moved everything else in the room accordingly. I don’t have much in there, I don’t want it. A rack for my clothes, a table, a lamp, two alarm clocks (one for the time, the other for the tick) and a telephone. I like land line phones, though this one is a heavy, 1950’s Bakelite one that is useless when you’re put through to a numbering service. You know the kind, press 3 if you’d actually like to speak to someone. So I can’t use it for that. But I like the look of it. I like it’s ring. Yes, I feel different. Is it just my bed?

It’s fixed. We have heating and hot water. My bath this morning was glorious. Thank you. It has been so comfortless. The house has felt unloved, unwarmed-up. It is happier now. As indeed are we. They all came yesterday, big man after big man. Bang, bang went the door, lumber lumber up the stairs. But they were amazing, ingenious, creative and fast once they get going. And they don’t want tea, or water. Nothing. I am grateful. More than I can say.

I’m off now to my residency. It comes around so fast. Let us be kinder to each other this week. I make him nervous I think with my demands. He tries his best. I ask so much of him. But it is well. It is well.

I will carry Ming Ho’s play in my mind. Who are you? I want my mother. I want my mother.