The Day of the Diva

Sitting by an open window always gives one the feeling of great achievement, taking in a deep breath and allowing the fresh air to blow serenely onto your face. When in actual fact all you have done are the things you do naturally, you have no control on the weather. Or control over the fact that to survive a human has to inhale Oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. I suppose the act of opening ones window, and the state of mind you are in while partaking in such activities could be classed as a sense of achievement. But only if you’re general state of mind puts you a notch above a chimpanzee… And without any further ado, we are back where we started, the same frame of mind that propelled one to open the damn window in the first place.

The day started perfectly normal, well normal if you are my cat. I woke pretty early as we have guests whom are not used to this city, so I thought the best thing to do was wake early and see them on their way. The alarm, which I did indeed set so no one else can be blamed, went off ridiculously early… 7:30. Who is awake at 7:30 on a Monday morning?? Anyway, I switched it off and curled over, making sure the duvet covered my head sufficiently enough to block out both the light and noise. Thus giving me more time in which to complain about it later in the day. (That was the normal bit I mentioned not the waking early). Anyway that was all shot to shit as the noise from several people taking showers and insisting on giving renditions, if a little less Maria Callas more Michelle McManus, of La Traviata. Please forgive me but I am damned if I want to woken by ‘Libiamo ne’lieti calici’, and not by my alarm clock. If I wanted to be woken at all I would have acknowledged the alarm with gratitude and sheer joy. But I didn’t, so I didn’t.

By 8:30 everyone was washed, dressed, cleaned and spruced and ready to leave in their finery for the day. Me however was just about stable on my feet. I threw on yesterday’s clothes, draped a pashmina around my neck then adorned sunglasses, a necessity I found when one has a headache. And I can tell you; today one had a very big headache. We left the house and made our way to the train station. Guests were put onto a train and I was nearly put into a coma, stupid bloody trains… this is London not some remote country village, no need for loud whistles and train horns! This state of shock put me completely off my morning coffee, so you can imagine how bad it was. I eventually made my way back home, picked up the mail, kicked out the cat and carried out my best impression of Norma Desmond by dramatically collapsing onto the sofa as if in a silent movie. I then realised the cleaner was coming and that we had run out of black bin bags, apparently another necessity. So I had to go to the local supermarket. Intending to spend nothing except the few pounds on the bags, I inevitably left with a ton of cleaning products, I’m sure the cleaner steals them, enough food to feed an army, some scented candles and a new serving bowl. Of course when I got home I noticed I had forgotten the bin bags. I blame the alarm clock.

I eventually mustered the energy to make myself an Earl Gray, just as the cleaner arrived, and I’ve been sitting here ever since, by the open window. The cleaner, whose name I don’t know is currently do the ironing. The one good thing about her is that she doesn’t speak. She’ll be off soon, and I wonder what on earth I am to do with my day… I dare say I maybe very proactive, and watch re-runs of Ground Force.