When I Dream

Today’s thoughts are mostly inspired by spinning all the plates: trying to maintain the smiling face of tech support, anxiously awaiting emails hopefully detailing postgrad interviews, and all the while dreaming about tea and typewriters.

Yesterday, myself and my esteemed companion drove to the wilds of West Wickham to collect the below Underwood #5, which we dated via its serial number to 1917. I feel pretty blown away that something so old actually still functions, and functions well. It is reassuringly heavy. It imprinted itself on my person as I cradled it, all the way home. Its carriage return ‘bell’ still sounds after almost a century. 

I found myself thinking, as I always do, that I wish I could track its history. Whose home or office has it sat in? What news has it recorded? Did it communicate happy congratulations, or tidings of hope in difficult times?

It started off rainy today, and I felt cold, damp, loathe to move, uncertain about facing a day or retail. The sun has come out now, slowly; and its emergence has encouraged me to think about all the things that are ahead, and all the good things that give me hope.

The other thought that is taking up much of my mind at present is my approaching *Significant Birthday.* I am a bit of a sucker for celebration, and something stubborn in me wants to celebrate three decades of creating, exploring and surviving. So I am compiling a list of thirty things I want to achieve/experience in the next year. One of those is that a friend told me that it is now possible to stay in the flat above the Garage at Monk’s House in Sussex. This thought really appeals to me, or at least renting a draughty old cottage somewhere wild and abandoned, by the sea, in order to focus on some writing. 

 

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