I wake at 3am. Not a drowsy half-sleep, but fully awake. I can’t tell what has prompted this bolt from slumber. Is it my bedfellow? Actually very quiet at the moment. Perhaps my own body has given me a nudge to take a quick comfort break. Argh. I shuffle to the bathroom and then back, and then lay very much awake, gazing in the darkness. It is 3.15am. There is nothing for it, I will get up and crochet. I have a plan.
I sneak as quietly as I can down to my parents living room. We are in that wonderful time between Christmas and New Year, full of festivities and relaxation. Spending a few days with my folks in their beautiful home is such a treat. Love, hilarity, teasing, larks and excellent food.
They have put up with me crocheting on the sidelines. My poor son has put up with me crocheting in every grabbed minute. Oh how I wonder what his lasting image of me will be, it must be with crochet hook in hand. Ah well. Even though we are taking a break from work, my other job has not halted. I am careering towards a deadline. I need to submit half of my designs for the next book and time is slipping, sliding away.
So 3.15am seems a good time, a magical time to catch up. When you feel poorly, beside yourself with tiredness, when your child is ill, 3.15am is a desperate time of the morning. It is long, dark and lonely. When you have a plan, then it is good.
The living room is still cosy from the glowing fire. I switch on all the lights to keep the brightness up and grab a handy blanket. I cover my legs and prop myself with cushions. I surround myself with all the instruments I need to design a tricky jumper. ‘Ah’, I think to myself, ‘I can work for a good four hours before the rest of the house is up and doing.’
I work hard, but not under pressure, I know that this stolen morning will give me the freedom to crack a design-nut. I need this quiet, uninterrupted time to get the design right. At times I look across to see if the sun is rising, but in the depths of winter it is a very long time before the skyline changes colour. At 6am I get up and make a coffee. I know that any noise I make will not be too disturbing. This little treat is a reward for finishing a particularly hard design. I feel settled now.
I do not like to miss a deadline, I like to be way ahead of it. I like time to change, titivate, to alter the final thing. There is not pleasure or creativity for me in the last minute dash. I was no crammer at school or university. I was more of a worrier – age, experience and faith have tempered this trait now. But where worry has gone, the compliance remains. Well the in-between time has helped bridge the creativity gap. At 7am, sounds are heard throughout the house. I am weary now, weary but satisfied. I put down my tools and make a jigsaw with my nephew. We had a few stolen moments together – precious, magical in-between times.
What a beautiful, atmospheric read!