Tuesday, November 09, 2004


I wake up. Bits of me are sticking out of the duvet and I'm cold. The BF has done his trick of rolling over and lodging some of the duvet beneath him, so I yank it back out again (without seeming to disturb him), snuggle down and go back to sleep.


My CD alarm whirrs gently into action, the volume fading up gradually as it attempts to rouse me into wakefulness, playing "Swollen" by Bent, one of my favourite tracks from a "chillout" compilation. The BF is vaguely aware of the gentle music and beckons me into the crook of his arm - I snuggle against his warm body, eyes still half shut. Every now and again, he plants a soft kiss on my forehead and pulls me in closer. From time to time, I lift my head up so that we can kiss on the lips. No words are spoken.


The cruel bleep of BF's alarm cuts through the tranquility and the BF switches the bedside lamp on. We both squint and blink as our unwilling eyelids resist opening. "Come on", BF mutters as he whips the duvet off, "time to get up"... He wanders into the bathroom and I struggle into my running kit, slowly, deliberately...


With Coldplay blasting into my ears, I set off into the dim morning light, plodding along at my usual steady pace, breathing in the cool, autumnal air, keeping an eye on the damp pavement below for any slippery patches of leaves or sticks which might trip me up. As I reach the top of the incline and turn, running alongside the park, I notice the moon, a bright crescent in the deep blue sky, together with two glinting stars, all arranged in a line. I smile to myself. I pass a zebra crossing, and note the Belisha beacons, blinking away, oblivious to the fact that there's no-one around to cross the road and, even if there were, there's no traffic to hamper their progress. It's at moments like these that I realise that I like mornings, particularly just before dawn. I used to run around Southampton common with my friend S. On our first circuit, the ducks in the duck pond would be silent, beaks nestling in plumage, an eery stillness to the water. But on the second circuit, as the sun began to bring a milky light to the morning, they would be babbling furiously, their cacophony heralding the start of the madness which is our daily life.

And so today, with morning "broken" as I reach our front door and enter the living room, a different cacophony greets me:

"Gay Bar" by Electric Six is playing on Kerrang. Let the madness begin...

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