It’s one of those mornings that nature created in order to deceive the unwary. At the moment, I can see that it is bright, sunny and beautiful outside. However, I happen to know (because I’ve been watching) that it threw down hail just twenty minutes ago. I can also see another large black cloud looming its way through the blue from the northwest as I sit here typing this, pondering what level of clothing is appropriate for my expedition to the bank, shops and pub (yep, in the pub again already, but on a legitimate lunch mission).
I’m still tired this morning, in spite of a reasonably good night’s sleep. I got to bed at around one o’clock after a slightly strange conversation on MSN, but I forgot to switch off my alarm, so had some dirge on Radio 1 blaring out at 6:59. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, I was disturbed again by the road sweeper working its way past my windows (my front door is only 18 inches from the kerb, so as it passes the whole building shakes and the letterbox and door knocker rattle). Once that noise had subsided into the distance, I was woken again by the postman, delivering a highly exciting Council Tax single occupancy declaration form (no love letters, no postcards from people on foreign holidays, no exciting packages from Amazon, not even an invitation to enter an amazing prize draw from Readers’ Digest ("You May Have Already Won!!!"), not even a bill).
So I gave up on the sleep idea, and turned on the radio to listen to the cricket commentary for a while (listening to Jonathan Agnew painting pictures with words, describing the stadium in Calcutta with its three tiers of seating on all sides as creating an atmosphere that is "like playing cricket in the bottom of an enormous soup bowl"), before running a deep bath and wallowing in it for a while.
I think I’ve psyched myself up for the day now, having had breakfast, cleaned the bathroom, sorted out some laundry and poked about online for a while. I feel a bit more prepared to tackle the day, and whatever bizarre things destiny has lined up for me.
Do you ever get that feeling? The feeling that your life is becoming more bizarre and absurd by the day, or even by the hour? When I look back over the last eighteen months or so, there is no doubt in my mind that my life is becoming absurd and slightly peculiar. I’m not sure I could exactly define in what way it is becoming so, and I’m sure that if I was to look at things objectively, I’d probably decide that it isn’t really that strange at all. But it *feels* strange, and has certainly been including some experiences that, eighteen months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamt of.
Perhaps that is why I feel this strong need to find a metaphorical (and human) rock to anchor myself to.
separating the wanted from the unwanted