Thursday, December 16, 2010


I am sitting here in bed at 9.06 a.m. The house is empty. The house is silent. My SAD light has been on since I woke up and sat up in bed. Now, finally, it is light outside, and I can see the bare trees disturbed by the wind, the telephone line from our house stretching to the pole on the road is bouncing up and down, and a sudden gust of wind rushes round the house. But now it is silent again. I have not been in the oasis of an empty house for over a month. I love my family, but to be here – just me – for eight whole hours – and know I am free with my thoughts, my plans, my sax, my writing, it is bliss. An ocean of quiet in the air, and a lake of inner calm inside my head.

Update. I have just told my daughter on the phone about the bliss of my empty house and she - a woman with two small boys – knew the treat of it, the significance of it. She said: “What are you going to do with your empty day?” and I immediately hit a block. One of the joys of the empty house and the empty day is not having to tell anyone what you are doing or what you are planning. I explained this to her and she understood. Now I am going to live it.

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