You wake up in the morning.
It’s freezing outside the duvet.
There’s frost on the window, even though you’ve got double glazing. Fat lot of fucking good that’s done. You’d think somebody had left the window wide open.
You lie there for a while. Your partner’s already up, somewhere in the other room.
You close your eyes.
You can hear the rain against the window. Traffic moving along the street. People shouting at each other at half seven in the morning.
What the fuck are they arguing about now?
You try to shut it all out.
And you imagine somewhere else.
A beach. Warm sunshine. The sea.
You stand at the foot of the bed and walk straight out onto the sand.
It’s warm beneath your feet.
You start walking towards the water.
You stand at the water’s edge for a moment.
All your life you’ve known the sea to be cold. Really fucking cold. Like the water off the beach at Troon.
You brace yourself as you put a foot in.
But it’s warm.
You take another step.
The waves come rolling in, gently lapping around your feet.
The sun is on your face.
You look out across the water.
And you think,
This’ll fucking do.
You stand there for a while, saying nothing.
Then a voice breaks the silence.
“You wanting some breakfast?”
