What a time it has been, and I’ve missed you.
Yes, I always say that – you must think me so fickle. In my defence, like all South Africans, I got a summons in 2015 to be part of the national alarm clock: we were asleep and it seemed like nothing could wake us. It would take a concerted amount of noise over a protracted amount of time for the sleep-spell to be broken, and even my small, shrill voice was required. (I’m really short, so it probably seemed as if my peeping was coming from a gap in the crowd, but I was there. Yes, sir).
And it happened.
At first just a finger stirred, then a hand – an eye opened and we were awake!
It’s not over, not by a long shot. The wicked sleep troll keeps sneaking into the room to tell us that we’re not allowed to get out of bed, and when we try, our muscles are so wasted that it’s hard for us to walk.
But we’re awake, we know that we’ve been knocked out for a decade or so and we’re asking a lot of questions. Better people than me are giving us physio to strengthen our muscles – in my small way, I will guard the door whenever that happens.