It all started last Wednesday… at about… eleven o’clock in the morning, no later than eleven fifteen… at the latest. But, by twelve o’clock, it was all over. Done. Finished. Fi-into!
And, then, it started again.
This starting and stopping carried on for the rest of the day, finally stopping for good (or so I thought) at about half past ten late that evening.
It had been quite a difficult day, neither one thing or the other for long, and never both simultaneously – which, I think, was a bit of a Godsend (if that’s the right word).
I slept but little, and when I did, it was a fitful sleep full of the stuff that dreams are made on, if I may be so bold as to quote Prospero from ‘The Tempest’ by William Shakespeare here – if it isn’t alright to do so… I won’t, and please consider that last part… unsaid.
The next day was a Thursday, as much like a Wednesday as you can get without repeating the Wednesday in a Groundhog Day sort of fashion – if you haven’t seen the film Groundhog Day you might not get that reference, if you have… then you probably might.
So, Next day. Thursday. Started off as most Thursdays do, with the morning, followed by the afternoon, it proceeded to the evening and on into the night. No problems there, right?
Wrong! it kept on starting. And stopping. And starting up again. Sometimes it went on for quite a while, and you thought ‘hooray!’ and then it would stop.
When it stopped, it did it with no warning, no screech of brakes (which is just a motoring metaphor) and no— warning (have I already said ‘warning’? I do tend to say ‘warning’ too much, so that the word becomes almost a cliché, and if not a cliché how about… a hackneyed phrase, although I do know that one word upon its own is not really a phrase. I’m not that silly… well, I am, but let us not get into name-calling.
Rupert! Wendy! Nathaniel!
Sorry, I do so dislike it when I do that.; I still do it, but I do dislike it. Obviously not enough to stop doing it, but, hey, you know me. And if you don’t… ‘hello, my name is *insert own name here*
As you can tell, this is an unfinished piece at the time of its writing. That is until it ends, when it will be a finished piece… of sorts, after a fashion, possibly.
So, where were we? Or should I say ‘when?’
I should? Okay, ‘when’. ‘When! When.
I feel much better now, thank you for asking – and if you didn’t ask, thank you for not asking (I am nothing if not polite).
Thursday, that is when.
When it all started again.
When stop it was not,
and the starter’s gun was hot,
and off it went!
It ran, and ran, and ran, and ran, and ran…
until all it’s running was spent!
And then it stopped.
It did this a lot.
Not, that I minded a minuscule jot.
Because I was becoming used to it by now,
the unfamiliar was becoming familiar somehow,
the rare was becoming common,
the extinct did live again
(If that is possible)
and that is when…
… two of them started up.
Not just one… but two.
Which is double.
At this rate I shall soon be overrun
by the starting stopping things!
Do you see the trouble that a new day brings?
Do you?
I so wish it was Wednesday again,
before all this began to begin;
and that time would stop there,
and not start again.
It all started last Wednesday… at about… eleven o’clock in the morning, no later than eleven fifteen… at the latest. But, by twelve o’clock, it was all over. Done. Finished. Fi-into!
And, then, it started again.
This starting and stopping thing,
which I mentioned earlier.
