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Lying in bed at 5 o'clock this morning, still full of cold but sensing an improvement I had what often happens when I wake up at this hour: I had an idea. When this happens I usually have to go downstairs and write it up; not with any intention of it being my next project - there are already too many of those - but just in case. The title of this blog post reflects the way my mind wanders at five in the morning. I look over to my left and register the long net curtains covering the large sliding window through which the light of dawn is just beginning to filter. It is moving slightly in the breeze. Out of the corner of my left eye I simultaneously register the black shade of the angle-poise lamp on my side of the bed. Next to me, Jeannie moves and emits a mewling sound. My gaze returns to the orange Art Deco lampshade hanging from the ceiling, almost but not quite in the centre of the room. Jeannie mewls again and I rest my hand on the particular place at the small of her back that I've always loved thinking that if she's dreaming it may reassure her. Of what I don't know. Then she breathes again and I realise it was just the passage of air through her nostrils and not a mewl at all. It has taken me about five minutes to write this but in reality, from noticing the net curtains to the imaginary mewling, it was almost instantaneous. At the same time my head was full of disconnected words that had to relation to what I was registering visually as it got lighter in the bedroom and it occurred to me that this is the way the human brain - or at least my brain - works when nothing is happening in the early hours; when we stare out of the window at nothing in particular, or when we sit without anything to look at or read while waiting at the doctor's, or for a bus. Also, the way in which sounds and images invade our brains and and connect with deeper levels of our consciousness, recalling stories or events from our past lives. In a split second, memories, thoughts and ideas occur for a fleeting moment and are gone - unless we get up and write them down.


You said...

I said...

Remember...

Remembert...

Rambert...

Ramambert... Ballet Ramambert...

Reiterate...

What?

Re-iterate

What?

To iterate again...

Iterate? Is that even a word?

Touch.

Smell.


The inside of my brain at five o'clock this morning.

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Updated: Jul 11, 2022

Well, it's a Sunday and I promised I'd remember that we need some kind of tool to remove the silicone grouting around our shower base. Normally, much to 'er indoors irritation, I tend to forget what I've promised the minute I walk out of the door but this time I didn't. Instead, I lay awake all night with a heavy cold, alternating between blowing my nose and reminding myself that I must remember to get a grout stripping tool from B&Q the next day. So, it ended up being one of those days where we do domestic things and then feel bad because we haven't been creative. We did indeed go to B&Q for the grout stripping tool, as well as the silicone grouting, end even remembered to go back for some methylated spirits, which the man on YouTube said you need to clean the surface prior to applying the silicone. "My, my... you're going to have a real party today!" Said Dianne the B&Q lady, as we visited her aisle for the third time.


However, it's a brilliant hot summer's day today and one that has been long awaited here in the UK, so instead of fixing our leaking shower, I cleaned the barbecue we haven't used for two years, due to the paucity of weather decent enough to grill a monkfish kebab - which was the last thing grilled on the barbecue - and Jeannie watered the garden. Then we talked about art and drank some chilled white wine, as you do, sitting in the sun awhile. The intention was later to grill some aubergine slices with parmesan and red peppers. All went well until the gas gave out before we could finish grilling and we were obliged to finish it all off in a saute pan on the ceramic hob, brought out into the garden to give it some semblance of a barbecue.


Now she's playing the piano - something she doesn't do enough, as she's a pretty good pianist. I've still got a head full of cold and possibly a sunburned brow, but hey, ho. That was Sunday.


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Writer's picturePhil Curry

Just testing that this thing works and hoping I'm able to keep posting when I should probably be doing something more productive. I used to write stuff in a book but that fell by the wayside as I got busier at the ridiculously late age of 65.


I was sitting in my office translating yet another hideously tedious company annual report that would probably increase my bank balance by about fourpence and thinking; "There must be more than this when I had an epiphany. "Listen mate," I heard a voice say. "What do you really want to do?" Well, it took me a while to take that leap of faith but 7:28 Studios is it.

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