Checking Out

by Nick Spalding

I am British, however, so I do the only thing I possibly can at a moment such as this. I go home and put the kettle on.

Kitchens always seem to be the place where both good and bad news are generally imparted, have you ever noticed that? Must be something to do with being in such close proximity to the teabags.

If Armageddon ever does strike, it will definitely happen in portrait mode rather than landscape.

I turn my attention back to the task of setting up my amp, playing once more with the dials on the front – one of which of course goes up to eleven.

‘Yes. A very old-school Catholic. If you weren’t feeling guilty about something, then you weren’t trying hard enough.’

I’ve stopped worrying so much about what’s going to happen or what has already happened and I’m thinking more and more about what is. Right now. In front of me. And what’s in front of me is life.

Because that’s all I have. That’s all any of us have. Moments. Moments captured between a void.