Dawn

So much has been invested in the past weeks. The pre-Christmas anticipation (for me at least) lasted more than a month. And then the day arrived and was beautiful, yet so brief.

There were imperfections. It was impossible to get to sleep due to the activity in my brain, rehearsing for the next day, and (irony of ironies) the insomnia caused by the worry that I might not get to sleep soon enough. Soon enough for what, you may ask.

The oven decided to play up. The electrics in our house are old and… well cobbled together would probably be a good description. No neat and tidy holes through the ceiling or floor: the wires line the walls. When there is a surge of power in the kitchen, the fuse blows. After a bit of fiddling with the water heater, the electric radiator and the extractor fan, the vegetables managed to limp to boiling point, though limp is an inappropriate word because for once, they weren’t overcooked. At least it happened in the latter stages, by which time the pork had already achieved fragrant crispiness. We eat ribbe now: a wonderful side of pork with tasty crackling that complements the roast potatoes and stuffing rather better (in my opinion) than dried out turkey.

Anyway I have been fighting that sad day-after-Christmas feeling, on and off. We watched Call The Midwife this morning, downloaded from the internet. It was presumably meant to be uplifting. After last year’s sad topic, and the Downton death debacle of Matthew Crawley, I watched with the strangely demoralising certainty they would give it a happy ending, but it left me feeling a kind of melancholic nostalgia. Not that I was alive back then. It is set a decade or more before I was born; the costumes are notably like those I see in photos from when my parents were young. But these programmes make me yearn for “when things were less complicated”, which is odd because it isn’t as if things were easier back then, and that was clear in the storylines which were of post-war PTSD and polio.

I guess what I secretly yearn for, is that time when I was a child, and it was someone else’s job to ensure that Christmas went swimmingly. To a time when the world seemed wide open and anything was possible. I know that the reality wasn’t like that. Teenage was a difficult time of wanting and hoping so much. I achieved something wonderful, getting into University to study Veterinary Science, but what I really wanted was a wonderful man to sweep me off my feet. Some people are never happy.

But that’s just it, you see. On the whole I am very happy. I have that wonderful husband. My life is stable and fulfilling. I see on websites sometimes people setting out their “bucket lists”. I don’t bother because I have done almost everything that was really important to me. One thing remains and that is to have a novel published. I’ve already seen my name in print of course. I’ve had short stories published in the Veterinary Times, and even been paid for the privilege. But as I am about to embark upon the painful journey of trying to find a literary agent who loves Tomorrow, I can only hope that this time… this time I have got it right.

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