sleepwalking on a tightrope

The past week has been: coffee with Jake, coffee with Nicole, plenty of thought-provoking talk about school, post-school, life and living resulting; a frantic romp through Alice and assorted criticism to cull quotations; a slow start on Artemis Fowl and the Lost Colony which I have been quite dying to read for a while; the YTR marketing department winning the much-coveted Achievement in Marketing Award at the Theatre Management Association Awards on Thursday, which made me all glowy even though all I do is pop in once a week to do menial odd jobs; Cluedo party at April’s! where I was Miss Scarlet and got to wear a pretty red dress; planning and finally booking a short trip to Spain in June: so looking forward to Alicante, where the hotel has a swimming pool and the beach close by - it doesn’t take a great deal to make my day these days.

So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality - the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds - the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd-boy - and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard - while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.

It’s not much longer, now, till all this ends; people keep saying September is so far away, but it scares me how quickly nearly five months of this year have flown by and before we know it it’s going to be June and then half the year, half the year, will have gone - where? I don’t want to waste it, I don’t want to lose it, and be harshly jolted back to reality, like Alice, by someone brushing the falling leaves off my sleeping face - realising after all that Wonderland was a dream - but was it?