Five Minutes on Sunday Night

11:41pm.
Sat on the sofa in my room. The door is open and I can hear the sound of the television from the living room. Studio laughter. Andy watching a comedy show. It sounds like a 'panel-show' rather than a sit-com or a film.
I have just been drawing, so have the overhead light on, as well as both my desk lamps; a pencil sketch of myself gesturing toward that haunted house that I dream about far toof requently, 33 Woodstock Drive.
The sound of the boiler in the kitchen switching itself on.
My stereo is silent. I have just finished playing Bat For Lashes second album 'Two Suns', partly because it reminds me of the January of 2010, more specifically, the type of unimpeachable cold that that month bought. It is the same cold as now, except now is colder, and it is April next week.
The coldest winter in 50 years, the headline in a newspaper I saw today.
Now that I have to go to bed, I feel relatively awake. I can't really justify another cup of tea before bed, but I don't want to go to sleep yet.
The morning will come soon enough anyway.
11:46pm