Raspberry Picking: A Peaceful Monday Solo
Monday morning, and I was awake before the alarm had even cleared its throat. One of those nights where sleep and I were more distant acquaintances than old friends, tossing about until eventually I gave up arguing with the pillow and got up instead. Any of you who've had one of those nights will know the particular flavour of tiredness that comes with it. It's not quite proper exhaustion, more a sort of foggy determination to get on with the day anyway, because lying there fuming about it clearly wasn't achieving much. So, mug of tea in hand, strong, obviously, this was not a morning for the weak stuff, I crept out of the house and left Sam and Iris exactly where any sensible thirty-one-year-old and seventeen-year-old should be at that hour: fast asleep. I did briefly consider knocking on their doors to spread the joy of my insomnia around a bit, purely in the spirit of family solidarity, but decided against it. Some sacrifices a father makes alone, and on reflection I ...
