The hard drive whirrs. I could hear humming in another room. Tuneful contentment. The kitchen emanating warmth. Now the humming has stopped. They are all in bed. The brain is clear and the hard drive whirrs, keeping me connected. My lifeline to everywhere.
A few essentials hang from the airer and around the room there are signs of preparation. Supplies for a prolonged trip. The build up to departure. Tom is leaving us. I can hear the clock. For the first time ever as far as I can recall. It isn’t much of a competition, hard drive and clock.
The wooden block calendar on the windowsill still says 16th August. Time drags. The pile of papers in my “In Tray” on the worktop has reached unmanageable proportions. There will have to be a sort out. Manyana.
Some bowls have been left out ready for breakfast, and a few plastic beakers. This is a great, lived in, working kitchen. A jumble of utility and ornament, tidiness and random scatter. The jug of water is empty. Time for bed.