I’ve mentioned before about the seemingly random sentences that often reverberate in my head when I wake. Sometimes they are being said by me though often it is another voice, a strange, unfamiliar one. This morning it was mine. I cannot remember the context, it has been lost to me. The sentence however was lucid and clear. ‘What an amazing set of tools,’ I said, though to whom I do not know.

The dark morning assailed me again as I walked. The form feels overwhelming. I need to reduce it down to bite-size pieces. I can do it. I can manage it, but this morning it feels downright impossible. I snap at him. But then it is alright again, and my petulance abates.

They’ve stopped getting staff in to work the tills at 6 am at Tesco’s. So this morning we had to use the self-service one. No more chatting. I don’t mind. Change comes frequently these days. Always new tricks to learn. We managed. We manage, he and I. Always.

The first cup of coffee has been drunk. It disappoints these days, coffee, I brew it mostly for the smell, tea has taken over. I shall make a pot now and then get down to work. Onwards.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.