I sleep with my windows open summer and winter. I love waking up to clean cold mornings as much as I like the honey drizzle of a summer daybreak.
I can hear the motorway in the distance and I can see the moon from my bed.
My feet face east when I sleep - when I die I will take my first step of my new life into the morning sun. This thought gives me pleasure and comfort.
There is a tawny frog-mouthed owl in the tree beside my bedroom. Her call vibrates through the night - in a register so low it is more felt than heard.
She has babies in that tree and brings them out of their nest to the long stretch of a branch where they waddle up and down watching the garden.
