I was woken in the very early hours of this morning, around 2am, by the loudest thunder I have ever heard. It rumbled and crashed overhead, several claps together as the storm raged overhead, rain pounding against the roof. I feel back into sleep, to be woken by my alarm at 5am, ready to head to work at the elections. I had planned to spend some wild time in the graveyard next to the poll station I was working at early in the morning, but the rain was still sheeting down and showed no time of stopping, so there was no chance to explore.
I was inside the poll station from 6.15am to after 10pm. The only moments of snatched wildness during the day were 5 minutes standing at the front door stretching my legs and back, listening to bird song and watching swifts scream over the roofs of the houses opposite.
Back at home at 11pm, the last light of the day still leaching out of the sky I sat in the garden smelling the damp earth, the honeysuckle, the lavender, looking at the alien shapes of plants in the gloom, feeling the cool air on my face, moments of blessed wildness after a long day inside.