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more >The alarm wakes me early. The room is very dark, no clues about the sort of day ahead. I open the curtains to a clear sky. A sky with beautiful shimmering potential.
This is as good as it gets when the weather is on the turn. But it got better over breakfast.
Andy had a fry-up, including that Moto staple, the Hash Brown. Steph, like the unseasonal sunshine, had a hot-cross-bun. Rhys had crumpets again and I had posh porridge from Ireland.
Jane had calcium and vitamin D3 (amongst other things).
I checked the Opera House timetable between mouthfuls of Flavahan’s. That’s when it happened. The rehearsal was only scheduled for 11:30. I had a morning off, exclamation mark.
I made a snap decision: grabbed my kit, jumped unwashed into some clothes and headed for a swim at the Oasis. They’ve got two pools. One indoor, one outdoor. Side by side. Both empty.
I swam 30 lengths. Outside in the glorious October sunshine. Life is beautiful.
It made me wonder: why hadn’t everyone come out?
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My alarm squealed, the cat stretched and tapped me with a ginger paw. I got up and didn’t need to look out of the window to hear the wind howling around the chimney and the rain battering at the double-glazing. I slumped downstairs wondering why I felt as if I hadn’t slept at all and went through my normal 5am paces: porridge, packed lunches, wash, dress, put cat back to bed and head for the car.
Outside, I realised that the four boxes of recycled cans/bottles/cat food pouches has been tipped up and whirled around the street in disaster-movie style, mixing with the general recycling put out by the neighbours.
Muttering and cursing like the bag lady I appeared to be, I let the rain and wind slap me senseless as I gathered the mess up and tried to hide the crates of shiny, soaking wet rubbish in a less windy spot (hah!).
40 minutes of this was enough and I sat gently steaming in the car, wiping my specs on a miraculously dry bit of shirt and wondering if my hair would stay in an almost complete circle for the whole day (it did). I breathed deeply and set off for the regular daily joys of the Blackwall tunnel.
I came home that night to find the bin-men hadn’t even been.
I should have stayed in bed…