Thursday, November 5, 2009

We are experiencing some Difficulty ...




6.45am. Trumpeted out of the scratcher to the sound of the psychotic canine scrabbling noisily at the utility room door. Sleepy nose detects the reason for the rude awakening. Stomach somersaults as the size 5 misses its target. Breakfast is postponed.

7.15am. Floor washed, laundry on, unread newspapers gathered, unrepentant canine allowed back in. Clothes folded, sleepy heads up, "where is my green top?", "where are my keys?" Have a nice day dear.

8.00am. Cup of tea. Spot of navel gazing.

8.30am. Onwards to the palace. Breakfast for milady. Doggie biscuit for royal hound accompanied by much gratuitous slobbering. The main man up, washed and dressed. Fed and watered. Bed clothes changed, living room vacuumed. Pills for week sorted. Desultory conversation.

10.00am. She who would like to be obeyed rises from the boudoir. With a list. And an attitude. Silent prayer is said.

11.00am. Class for the wobblies at local pool. Much hilarity and sadness.

12.30pm. Home again, home again, jiggety jig. Soup. Look through post. Pay bills. Transfer small fortune to offspring residing temporarily in Barcelona. Phone dancing off the hook.

2.00pm. Dancing with the divas. One of whom has consumed too many glasses of wine with her lunch. Cross words and slight 78 year old tantrum when not allowed to trip the light fantastic.

4.00pm. Back to palace. 35 minute shuffle to the bathroom. Too late. Exercises done. Queen querulous. Murderous thoughts.

5.30pm. Dinner?? Nah ... couldn't be arsed. Let them starve.

6.45pm. Exhibition opening no.1. Old friends, new paintings. Disappointing.

7.30pm. Exhibition opening no.2. Brilliant. Manic. Hot.

8.30pm. Poetry reading. Interesting.

11.00pm. Home again, home again, jiggety jig. Tidy kitchen, let reluctant canine out, some laundry sorting. Cup of tea. Breathe. Haul cat-marauding canine back in.

12.30am. Yawn. Nabloblahblah??

There are not nearly enough hours in the day.

4 comments:

Molly said...

I was worried! And now I'm mopping. Tears of mirth that is! By my calculations you're up awfully late! Will you be expected at daybreak at the palace again on the morrow? But you can't complain that you have nothing to write about!

Pauline said...

Your life reads like a comedy of errors! You would have a book written if all you wrote about was each day as it comes! (I'm NOT laughing, really)

secret agent woman said...

That first bit is why I don't have a dog!

Warty Mammal said...

Goodness. Do you take a special dietary supplement in order to pull off these superhuman feats?