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The night shift

It’s 1.45 am.

I have just finished an article and sent it in to my editor. The household is quiet. Outside, rain is battering our windows. I can hear it fall heavily on the leaves of the banana tree that has shot up (like that famous beanstalk) in our neighbour’s garden.

All sleep has vanished. I’m not tired at all, but now that I have clicked on ‘send’ I should call it a night.

It’s so quiet outside. Even with the rain. Even with a car or two swooshing by on the wet road. It’s a pleasure to be here right now.

I’ll feel differently in the morning, though, when the honking begins.

For now…



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