Two Minutes Past Midnight
I am not one for staying up late. Not for me the film which ends at eleven o’ clock. Oh no. Too late.
By nine o’clock I can usually be found in my pjs, curled up on the sofa with the dog cuddling up to me.
At New Year, I’m the one surreptitiously looking at my watch and flicking a glance wistfully at the stairs. As soon as Auld Lang Syne has fizzled out when we realise we don’t know the words, I’m planning my escape.
Staying up until midnight holds no appeal for me. I’m an out-of-bed-at-six sort of girl. That magic hour or so at weekends, longer during school holidays is mine to have and to hold. I make a pot of coffee, turn on my laptop and write or Google and sometimes tweet.
This New Year, I planned to endure two midnight bedtimes: New Year’s Eve and New Year’s day. Double torture.
In the car on New Year’s day as we made our way back home after staying with friends on the Yorkshire moors, I announced my intentions.
“Perhaps I’ll go to bed and set my alarm, so I wake myself up at midnight?” I pondered aloud.
“Can you set the computer to do it automatically?” asked my daughter.
“Probably,” I murmured non-committally. It was New Year’s day and I was still feeling fragile. Certainly not up to improving my IT skills.
“I wouldn’t bother,” said my other daughter airily, “no one else will apply at that time of night.”
“I’ll get up and do it for you,” said lovely man.
We arrived home, I emptied the car, carried the bags upstairs, walked the dog, fed the rabbits, fed the children and collapsed into bed and forgot all about it.
At midday on January 2, I remembered with a start my New Year’s resolution to apply to the Romantic Novelists’ Association new writers scheme. I frantically switched on the computer, cursing my natural body clock that had packed me off to bed at ten the previous evening.
I clicked on the website to remind myself of the application process. Perhaps there was still time? Perhaps my youngest was right, I was being ridiculous. It had only been twelve hours since entries could be accepted. I crossed my fingers and held my breath and then exhaled with disappointment. Written in bold on the application page was the following message:
The New Writers Scheme is now full for 2013 and no new applications can be accepted.
So now I have another twelve months of waiting, to enhance my IT skills and practise staying awake until midnight. Maybe next year I shall go to the RNA ball!
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