It’s a beautiful day in Glasgow today, and off I go to bed.
At about quarter past seven this morning, I was standing in a dark corridor on one of the higher floors of my hospital, watching the sky start to turn golden over the university tower. The dawn is my favourite time of day. It’s something that feels like old magic, dark giving way to pinks and reds and golds, and the world waking up. (The magic of those particular dawns is especially true if you live in a place where, more often than not, dark gives way not to beautiful sunrises but to hammering rain.) At the end of a night shift, it’s a different kind of magic, an achievement and a breakfast time and a nearly over and a living to fight another day and, usually a heartfelt thank God that soon someone will be in to take away the on call pager.
The sun’s coming up.
(The illusion lasted right up until I had to dig my car out of the block of ice it had turned into while I was at work.)