Wednesday 16th February
I wake today at 3am. Your Dad is in Berlin and I am alone. It's still dark but the morning birds are singing to the glow of the sodium street lamps. Their sleep patterns as disturbed as mine. I stumble through to the bathroom to pee. My bladder seems to have lost all ability to contain more than a few teaspoons of liquid.
As I make my way back towards the bedroom I sense a strange smell. My first thought is the fairy lights but the lounge smells clear. I step into the dark kitchen where the smell is more intense. I peer round the corner. One of the hobs on the old electric cooker is smouldering deep orange. Sparks have begun to crackle and spit. The electric kettle that I boiled the water with for last nights broccoli is precariously placed just inches away on the neighbouring hob, not far from combusting it's so hot.
I thank the lord and yourselves for my impatient bladder and my new super-human sense of smell. I don't sleep a wink for the rest of the night, revisiting thoughts of what might have happened if you hadn't woken me.
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