Seventeenth

Dear July,
I woke up abruptly – with a start – from somewhere deep inside my brain. “If they announce it at like 1am, should I wake you up?” my boyfriend had asked a couple of hours before. I said yes. If he was still awake when it happened, then yes. I forgot that of course he would be still awake, he would wait up for it.
The last time they announced a new Doctor, there was a band sleeping on our living room floor. We had planned to get up, to watch it live streamed in the middle of the night. But somehow a band ended up sleeping in the living room of our little house. We had to wait for morning to cluster around the TV, the volume right down and watch Peter Capaldi be unveiled from the feet up.
This time, it is the middle of the night. With my head resting on my boyfriend’s chest, barely conscious but strangely lucid, we watched the clip announcing the next Doctor. There was a snatch of tennis and then a forest. A hand. An eye. Jodi Whittaker lifted her hood and my heard pounded for a moment and then settled and I thought “good”.
I had a lot of emotions in the lead up to this moment. I thought a lot of things and ranted tearfully at my boyfriend about the full breadth of emotions I had about this one thing. But when it happened and suddenly it didn’t feel so big. It was good. Good. So I went back to sleep.
Alex x

I’m posting a blog for every day in July. Letters to July was inspired by Emily Diana Ruth.

Further reading

December – home

I spent the first minutes of 2018 on the beach. I’ve never actually spent New Year