I’ve kept late hours for as long as I can remember, not through temperament, but because I have no choice in the matter. As with other aspects of my life, I try to make the best of it, because that’s all any of us can reasonably hope to do. I’ve always appreciated the solitude and silence of the hours when darkness fall, but particularly so tonight, after studying the BBC news site to see a seemingly endless gallery of horrors paraded before me.
I wandered outside into my garden, into the cool night air; the owls and feral cats were quiet for once, then I gazed up at the stars and I felt somehow cleansed by their brightness and purity, far removed as they are from the swirling, malevolent currents here on Earth. The night sky was achingly, indescribably beautiful and once again, I was reminded of a quote that’s been attributed to Van Gogh “I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.”