Good Morning World

It was time. Jackie rolled gracelessly out of bed, padded the short distance between bed and window and poked her head through the curtains. Just her head mind, nothing more, she had slept naked because of the hot flushes, but she was no exhibitionist.

‘Good morning world, you bastard!’

The greeting was spoken with feeling, not too loudly because of the neighbours, but with a very satisfying emphasis on the last two words. Jackie smiled and removed her head from the swathes of blue cotton fabric. This had become her new normal, the way she set herself up for the day. She had tried other morning routines, like stretches and mindfulness and the ‘morning pages’ recommended by her time-rich friends, but nothing worked nearly so well as this short defiant salutation. With five simple words she was able to welcome the day, acknowledge that it was likely to be shit, and then tell it to do one - she was ready for it.

A shower and a bowl of cereal later, and clothed in apparel suited for the task ahead, Jackie was at the bus stop. Ahead of her in the queue was an earnest looking young girl who, apart from the mandatory ear phones, appeared to have made a conscious decision to look older than her years - unless, of course, sage green cagoules had become trendy in the years that Jackie’s attention had been diverted from the fashion pages. Behind her in the queue was a bloke evidently feeling a bit under the weather, futilely attempting to sniff up snot that wasn’t for turning. Jackie was seriously tempted to offer him one of her tissues but decided against it, wary of how he might react. As usual the bus was late. As usual it was crowded. Jackie paid her fare and edged down the aisle, pushing past the green cagoule and other standees in an attempt to distance herself from the sniffler. The last thing she needed today was a cold.

Arriving at her destination, Jackie took stock. Fortunately, her outfit had survived the commute. One of the many good things about jersey was that it didn’t crease - although she had primarily chosen the dress for its softness, thinking that she might need the comfort and reassurance of its touch. As she climbed the grey concrete steps at the entrance to the looming brutalist building Jackie wondered, yet again, why she was putting herself through this ordeal. Her answer, yet again, was because this was what she wanted. Although she couldn’t have defined it at the time, today was the day she had wanted for the last fifty years. Since the day her father had sat at the dinner table, jabbed his fork viciously in Jackie’s direction and snarled

‘She’ll never do owt!’

Ten-year-old Jackie hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation up until then. Dad had been wittering on about the son of one of his mates who’d just passed the eleven plus.  Then suddenly, without warning, he’d turned his attention to her and launched the withering attack. Spitting out some food as he spat out the words. He thought she was thick, useless. Ten-year-old Jackie had been destroyed, but the wounds her father’s words had inflicted had led, ultimately, to today, the day fifty-nine-year-old Jackie would defend her PhD thesis.

Jackie eyed the paternoster cautiously. She watched the younger students carelessly embarking and disembarking. She thought about it for a moment, then changed her mind and made for the conventional lift.  The seminar room was four floors up. Better safe than sorry.

Jackie had visited the seminar room two days earlier in order to familiarise herself with the setting, but it was different today. The first thing that she saw was a huge map of her study area that the examiners had projected onto the wall. It was completely unexpected, and it was enough.   A voice in her head, her father’s voice maybe, was screaming that she knew nothing about anything, she was still useless. Jackie almost choked on the panic, but she swallowed it down. Just about. She was glad she had bought the dress, she let the fabric envelope her as the viva began.  The examiners grilled her gently, they grilled her with nice smiling faces, but it was a grilling none the less. It lasted nearly 3 hours.  It was tough, bloody tough, but eventually the smiling faces told her that she had passed.

She had done something!

On the way home Jackie got a seat by the window. There was a bit of slow traffic as the bus passed the cemetery but it didn’t even occur to Jackie to look out at the place where her father lay.

Later, a warm, hug filled and quite boozy bit later, Jackie closed her curtains.  As she did so she whispered,

‘Good night world, you beauty!’