Usually when I wake up on a Sunday, I am thinking about something specific. That wasn’t the case today, so I decided to present my collection of random thoughts instead.
It was very cold this morning. Cold enough to make me want to stay in the warmth of the bed for a while. That made me think about how much colder it used to be when I was a boy. No central heating, no double-glazed windows, and the whole house heated by one coal-fire in the living room. I often wore extra clothes to go to bed in, rather than getting undressed. The risk of waking up to frozen water pipes meant that my mum would fill saucepans and a kettle the night before. Then at least she had water to make tea, and to heat up so we could wash.
How soon we become accustomed to the luxuries of progress.
I thought I should get up, to let Ollie out into the garden. Then I started to think about how Ollie would feel if I died of Covid-19. (Or anything else for that matter.) He is so dependent on always being close to me, I feel sure he would pine badly, and be inconsolable. I concluded that it would be best if I outlived him. But then I would be the one grieving. It’s a tough call, either way.
Writing my new serial was on my mind. I am sure I am making errors in trying to write it from the perspective of a young woman who has just had a baby. I have never been a woman, had a baby, or even fathered a child. More so than anything else I have written, it feels like a challenge to get through each episode. Then I reminded myself that I have never been a serial killer either, yet I have written stories about them. Perhaps real serial kilers languishing in jail somewhere are reading my stories online, and noticing errors?
Then I couldn’t stay in bed any longer, so got up.