I woke up this morning, as usual, before my alarm clock was due to ring. I flicked on the little lamp that has been twisted round to fit inside my bookshelf, and I laid there for a while, being aware, though not quite awake enough. It was cold but my books didn't shiver, and neither did their shadows.
And then the power went.
So I showered and dressed by candlelight, having checked that the mains weren't off and that it was really a power failure, nearly losing a contact lens (and not realising it), gave up on the idea of war paint for the work day (make-up) and walked out into the freezing, breezy morning, hoping that I didn't look monstrous. Not enough light to check how I looked in the mirror ...
I passed a house just as a young man with dishevelled hair and a too-big grey jumper came outside, clearly recently awoken, and he glanced at me and managed a morning smile.
Suddenly, it occurred to him that I might have answers he was seeking. "Oh, excuse me. Do you have a power failure at your place too?"
Did I look that much a mess? "Yes, we do."
"Right, so it's not just us then."
A kind of a thank-you-good-bye gesture that was somehow expressed between half a smile and half a wave, and I staggered towards the train station, hoping that the trains were running, having not had breakfast seeing as I couldn't put the kettle on.
Posted by sniffles at May 21, 2002 09:22 PM