In Between

In between day and night, where birds hop onto the honeysuckle, and fly away making it tremble damply. In between work and leisure, where stuff I need to do starts breathing down my neck, stupid lesson plans on the table beside me. In between solitude and company, L heading home soon from a misty walk and tea with friends. I expect she'll be on the next bus. In between autumn and winter, where the temperature spikes and dips like crazy, and now my feet feel cool and the cold mist is falling over the tops. In between the past and the present, where I don't know if I'm 9 or 19 or 49, or maybe nine months. In between the old life and the new, where I am contemplating starting job-hunting again, where the current collection of pieces of work rattle oddly about my week, where I feel lonely, under-supported and under appreciated - oh and underpaid.

I am drinking tea from a very large cup, a Cath Kidston one if you must know, though I never drink it all up, which is a bit perverse perhaps. In between full and empty I suppose.