Night

There’s something about living on a street I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. Street lights, house numbers, neighbours is still a foreign concept for this old country bumpkin. For all my childhood and teenage years I lived in the far off land of the country side. No cars, no talking, no lights, no sirens, no nothing. Just the sound of sheep or birds as they tuck themselves in for the night. It’s a sort of silence that when I go back and visit it makes your ears ring, and the darkness is so black you might as well have your eyes closed.

I’m currently sat in my spare room which is at the front of the house that looks into the street. It’s 11:17pm on a fairly warm summers evening, there’s a bedroom light on across the street and a living room lamp that they’ve just turned off. I hear the sound of keys as they are locking the door for the night. I can hear people murmuring from the street behind, presumably a bbq that’s got the last of the night owls.

There’s something peaceful about the amount of people that surround me. I’m sure I’ve written about this before and how I think of every family and their habits and how we are all sleeping in our beds and the thoughts, trails and tribulations that are currently happening in each household. There’s a car that has left it’s headlights on at the end of the street and it’s lighting up the road. It’ll soon pass by my window with a woosh.

I think about a lot of things as I’m sat on my bed looking out. Like how this is my bed from home that I’ve had for 8 years, I had a nap in it today and it still is the best bed I’ve ever had. Or how I ended up so far away from home, in a city of strangers all living such different lives. I say different but we are all doing so much of the same things. Locking our doors, turning off our lights, going to bed.

Happy blipping.