The upside of seeing 3.37 a.m. every morning is that is provides the opportunity to mull over all the positives in my life.
Apart from knackering myself in the process, moving my son into a new flat-share in the old Olympic Village, and the start of a new chapter.
Seeing a dear one wading through the tough stuff, and being presented with ever more little rays of light.
Receiving an invitation to my youngest nephew’s wedding in November.
Looking at the latest Bristol Rugby squad and feeling just a smidge of positivity.
Even the Tory government being forced into the odd reversal brings a small smile at that dark and silent time of the early morning.
The downside of seeing 3.37 a.m. every morning is that I can never get back to sleep before all the other stuff crashes in from all sides.
Echoes of all those fatuous, spurious and disingenuous statements from those supposedly in charge of our destiny.
The louder, and scarier bombast from across the ocean, as an orange leader also tries to turn the clock back to the 19th century.
The inability of any of the sides in the many areas of division and conflict around the world to see more than a few inches, or a couple of steps, in front of them. And never to see the other sides point of view.
The seeming permanence of self-interest over common good, in each and every walk of life. In every corner of the world.
Even the revelations that should lead to resolution raise the question why? Why are there still revelations? Why does it take us so long to get things right. When we eventually do. Which isn’t anywhere near as often as we should.
Or maybe I am just tired. And jaded. And cynical.
And there are always rays of sunshine. They just have to work so hard these days to bring the light in.
But hey, it is only 3.37 a.m. so it’s never going to be that bright.
So we keep trying, to make one little thing better than it was. Or at least no worse. And maybe that will do for now. Until enough people have had enough.
Then, who knows.
But sleep would definitely help.
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