I became acquainted with my window sill after hearing the intense change from crystal clear soundlessness with a few owls here and there, to a hideous explosion of sound charging through the quiet atmosphere like it was cream cheese with chives.
So I lived with my bedroom a stone’s throw from a major road, back when even major roads were quiet in the night.
From this window sill I could watch the darkness conquer the dim misty blue to cover the house in a sheet of deep black with a sparkle of light from across the road.
I could secretly listen to my parents out on the terrace on hot summers, while pretending to be out with the rest of the kids from the street. Even have a peep from above until I clumsily moved something, and heard a curious but cautious “what you doing?” (As if I was about to jump or something. lol)
I couldn’t watch the insanely cluttered and obsessive Christmas lights on the house across the road, as they did hurt my eyes after a while.
The first time I was living away from the security of my parents, it was to look after a terrace house, which still had its 60 to 70s style imprinted on every room with effort, the somehow creaky wood panelling was so awful you could get splinters just by looking at it for too long, and the patterns on the carpet which gave the inspiration to stereograms (magic pictures).
I only remember the living room window sill where once we enjoyed a day full of entertainment while a seagull dive bombed countless students as they walked by its hardly noticeable baby.
Our next place was a big window sill FAIL, we were so trapped in this flat, one side we had a very major road, traffic lights, and a horrific public house with jobless dusty women-beaters part of the midday to dusk scenery. On the other side was nothing, literally nothing but building seen through a window that didn’t even open.
On leaving that hideous box we went to a breezy safe haven for three months, where I liked to sit by the window watching the waves sometimes batter the coast, and sometimes lick the heels of happy people with kites.
That would take me to where I am now, happily sitting on a window sill.
Imagine a huge window sill with room for a long cushion to perch my little bum while reading, writing, or just thinking.
Some people have the bedroom, some have their kitchen, some will never leave there glorious couch, some will use their bathroom as a safe haven, and I sometimes do, but mostly I like to lose myself on the window sill, not really looking out, but mostly letting the air hit my face energising my thoughts.