Stick to the routine

Swoosh, boiler fires, water gurgles into the radiators. Make the eyes open to check the clock. 4:30 am.

Fine, time to doze off again after reaching out to the photo beside the clock, the one that will get put into a drawer so no-one will see it during the rest of the day. Ridiculous really since it was copied from an Internet site so hundreds, possibly thousands, will have seen it. As ever, there is a flicker of peace from gazing at the smiling face. The face so rarely seen for real.

Those emotional seconds wake up other parts of the brain that demand order, reason, right behaviour. A tidal wave of common sense, a tsunami to flood out that peace. They bring instead awareness of limitations, imperfections and self-disgust. Quick put the lamp on, reach for the gift book of poems. Read the one for today. It doesn't stem the tide, but it is a rock on which to rest briefly. Then ever obedient to the demands of daily rituals, forward into another ordinary day.

A shuffle across the wide bed, built for two, only ever used by one. Left leg waves wildly in the air as it descends to the floor. Steady, slow down, the secret of control is think before you move. No mirror, no signal, just focus on manouvre. Feet firmly on the ground, reach for the stick – no, not the one to beat yourself with - the one to allow you to get to the bathroom and back.

Next challenge the descent to the kitchen living area. Backwards down the stairs is safer but forwards allows a fleeting belief that today might be ok. Forwards and stumble. Bye, bye Confidence, hello Anxiety and your companion Tension. Movement will be slower and stiffer from now on.

Radio on, fruit juice drunk, porridge made and eaten. Ok so what's happening in the world? Unknown because despite the Radio 4 voices the mind has lost itself some sort of reverie about someone or oneself or both. Coffee next, stick to the routine it gives the day a familiarity. Sandwich to take to work done. Upstairs to shower and dress for the day ahead.

Anxiety builds on its solid foundation – will the cab arrive at 8:30? Who will be driving it? Will there be conversation that cheers or stony silence that chills? By 8:25 the descent to the front door is complete, the porch light turned on anticipating the return in the dark. Step out into the square, stop and scan to see who else is headed to the gate. Lady from next door but one. Find cheery smile to accompany the “Good Morning” that passes for friendly behaviour in this part of the world. In a few more years we might actually get as far as knowing names.

Sharp left under the arch that leads to the gate, a silver Mercedes means the Lithuanian on the morning run. At 30 he has lived and worked in many places throughout Europe. He talks about taking his girl friend to a wedding show at the weekend. Tease him gently about being invited to the big day and hat buying, forgetting that although he speaks English well he does not always understand. Explain about the hat buying. Along Whitehall and the sharp right in front of the security gate. Checks complete, gate lifts and spirits sink. On to the next gate and into the car park. Out of the car wishing each other a good day.

Battle of the Doors skirmish 1 at the entrance. Beautiful and old, heavy and spring loaded but bigger still the fear that some helpful person will yank it open causing a dropped stick and a toppling me. It happens but not today. Notch up small victory. One disabled lift, takes me to Battle of the Doors skirmish 2 modern heavy glass doors. Pull then realise the sign says PUSH. Another lift then the plod to the desk, head down to make sure left foot has not made another bid for freedom from control. Stop several times in order to look up and greet colleagues who do not understand that progress is less than presidential, cannot walk and talk, let alone chew gum.

Sit heavily down oppressed by the effort of arriving. Stand again to remove coat and hang it on coat rack. Log on to computer and phone and try to focus on work world. Scrabble for the knowledgeable look as someone asks the first question of the day. It's ok, it's only about coffee. Grimace, feeling aggrieved that I cannot get my own cup, hate being dependent. Hand over card that acts as money in this controlled environment and the ubiquitous loyalty card to be stamped to get 10th cup free. Reminder to self, if you had to fetch your own it would take at least half an hour and you would have spilt most of it before you get back to desk. Show more appreciation when it arrives, probably too much.

Can one be too grateful? Are people too kind? Rein in these random thoughts before they become the subject of yet another internal debate. Stick to the routine - scan emails; check internal website for updates; check external websites for information that needs to be passed on. Do this off and on all day. In between conversations, meetings, none of which seem to matter or to answer the fundamental why of life.

Reminder to self, you know why – because stuff happens – it just is the way it is. One universal controller or a series of random events it won't make any difference, the stuff will still happen. Predestined perhaps, predictable less so, comprehensible, not at all. Big Ben marks the hours passing. 4:30 chimes mean a return descent to the car park and the Volkswagen Sharan – a silent return journey home.

Home. A strange concept – a space not owned. One borrowed at considerable expense. Yet it has a safe quality. Quiet for the most part in the early evening gloom. Lights make the room a goldfish bowl so close the curtains, shut out the world but not from the mind. Switch on another computer and repeat routine, emails and websites before cooking, eating, clearing away.

May be television, may be radio to blot out the replays of the day. Realisations of alternative meanings, things said that one wishes unsaid. Or worse still things not said that need saying and will be forgotten in the morning. But always emptiness beneath the distractions. A deep mine shaft, a bottomless well, nothing to hold on to, no end to the falling.

Sharp reminder to self. Stick to the routine, time for the medication.

And so to bed, fish the photo out of the drawer and speak briefly to it, a finger tip kiss in the darkness before sleep. And the start of another ordinary day.