I’m having a gap in time that’s so far lasted the whole of a morning in the backyard of our house in Wavertree, the house we’re not leaving. It’s a Monday, it turns out, and a bank holiday too. Which I’d not been expecting as it’s only two weeks since the banks last had a holiday. I also learned from the paper this morning that there might be an extra bank holiday this year, in October. And that the people who decide these things think that might be good for our economy.
Which I thought, given the mess we’re all in, was a ridiculous thing to say when I read it, while sitting on our back step, in The Guardian, on my phone, early in a day that’s also a gap in time. ‘Ridiculous’ being one of the main words I now think of when I think about the people who are running our country. The other words for when I think of them being ‘furious, smug and liars.’
But today I’m having a gap in time from thinking about ‘ridiculous, furious, smug and liars’ because no one should have to have words like that in their heads too often or for too long.
So I’ve been reading a novel by Deborah Levy for most of this morning, out here in the yard of the house we’re not leaving. My first new novel in nine weeks of obedient lockdown. Brought here by a friend on a bike from my favourite bookshop, and every word treasured. Treasured so much that I’ve stopped reading it for a while now while I type this. So there’ll be a gap before I run out of the fifty pages I’ve got left.
A gap in time, between fury and whatever comes next. I’m happy out here.
The novel is “The Man Who Saw Everything” by Deborah Levy. The bookshop is News From Nowhere in Bold Street, Liverpool. And the cargo bike ridden by a friend was from Agile Liverpool.
More writing about books is here at “A Book in Your Bag”
When it’s the next day, which is now, I finished reading the book. Sad when I turned over to the final page and what’s just happened finally happened. But also it was ok.
A great book and all the more precious for being a gap in time as well as a mixing together of so many times. Like my dreams often are.