Nightshift, Sunday night into Monday morning. I’m doing a late one, one I normally avoid at all costs. I have a long prep session, and it’s very quiet so I lie on the sofa in the studio and start reading the book Jon lent me. It’s good.
I’ve turned most of the lights off. I can hear the rush of the air con, a red light glows by the door into the studio next door, and I too could be on a plane, hurtling Lord knows where, trying to get some sleep. I never can sleep on planes.
I drift off. Thoughts hurtle skywards. I can see the office block across the car park, geometrically perfect, orange light spilling from the stairwells. It looks like a Chris Ware drawing.
The tannoy barks news of an incoming audio feed. For a moment I’m not sure where I am, wake or asleep, at work or at home. I go to our office and look at a flourescent light in a lab in the college across the road that’s been flashing madly for at least 24 hours now. It’s Monday morning but there is no-one anywhere.