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Death is busy in winter

The road to Sainsbury’s meets the road to the crematorium. Both times we’ve shopped this week we’ve seen hearses coming and going. Busy…As we go home with New Year’s party food and celebratory alcohol I think of all the Christmas funerals: so many deaths, so many hearts broken, so many memories, so many people missing from loved ones’ lives. From our lives. And all the partying going on – not necessarily regardless but because. Because of what we still have, because of what we had. Because memories cannot always all be bad ones. We are desperate to make good ones too. 

I remember our own sadness at Christmas and it can’t be all I have every year. I will have happy. I will.  

No, Body Clock, let’s not do that…

Body clock at 4am: ‘Well, hi there! Hey! Hello!’

Me: ‘Fuck off’

Body clock: ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up! What shall we do?’

Me: ‘How about we sleep?’

Body clock: ‘But it’s 4am’

Me: ‘Exactly. Fuck off’

Body clock: ‘But we always wake up at 4am’

Me: ‘No. That’s just some shit you’re pulling on me this week. Last week it was 3am. The week before it was 5am.’

Body clock: ‘Well, you’re awake now. What shall we worry about? How about we play What didn’t I do today?’

Me: ‘Stop it.’

Body clock: ‘Okay. How about What’s gone wrong recently?’

Me: ‘No.’

Body clock: ‘I know – All the stupidest things I’ve ever done….??? With pictures?! I can do play back? That’ll really wake you up’

Me: ‘You’re giving me palpitations. I just want to sleep.’

Body clock: ‘Why? Why do you want to sleep?’

Me: ‘So I can get up and do things tomorrow and not feel like shit or need to sleep late.’

Body clock: ‘You can sleep in the morning. Getting up early is boring.’

Me: ‘But I want to get up. I want to do all the things I need to do.’

Body clock: ‘Ooooh!!! What things???!!! Let’s worry! Let’s play Try to make a list in the dark with just your rubbish tired memory!!! Hooray!’

Me: ‘Fuck off’

Body clock: ‘You’re doing it aren’t you? I know you’re doing it.’

Me: ‘Fuck off’

Body clock: ‘Well… It’s 5am now. I might just have a snooze…’ …

Me: ‘It’s 7am. It’s morning.’

Body clock: ‘Fuck off’

Me: ‘It’s 8am. I should get up.’

Body clock: ‘Fuck off’

Me: ‘Oh god. It’s 9am. Look what you’ve done to me.’

Body clock: ‘Just another 5 minutes… I’m tired. I’ve been up half the night.’

Me: ‘Let’s drink tea.’

Body clock: ‘Cheat’

There’s a teenager in the bathroom. She’s 46. 

There’s a teenager in the bathroom. She’s 46, she’s covering up her spots and she’s singing Wham’s Last Christmas. She will always be anxious, vulnerable, naive and awkward, she will always be scared of herself and hide her face behind make up. She will always be see-sawing between sad, dark, lost in thought, and happy, floaty, simple, and grateful for life and laughter, and desperate for music.

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