You kind of know from the moment you wake up that you are going to have a bad hair day. After a fitful night. Hot, cold. Cold, hot. I am woken at dawn by the deep-throated moan of a Burmese cat.
He’s hungry, and he know if he yowls outside my door for long enough, I will extricate myself from my pit and pander to his every need. But not today. I’m going back to sleep.
Not happy with being ignored, he switches to Plan B. He jumps up on to the door handle and hangs on with his front paws arriving in my bedroom, hind legs first, like a Burmese Tarzan.
Cassie the Blog Dog, who had been snoring on her back at the bottom of my bed, springs into Red Alert mode launching herself off my bed and chases Ollie downstairs.
Muttering a few well-chosen expletives, I haul myself out of bed and follow them downstairs. Bleary-eyed, I rip off the top of a sachet of cat food and some of the juice dribbles on to my bare feet. Wash my feet and dry them with kitchen roll.
I make myself a coffee and take it back to bed, spilling a little on the carpet at the top of the stairs. I go back downstairs and find carpet scrubbing utensils. Scrub away. Drink cold coffee.
Sallying forth to the supermarket, I chose to wear my chicken-patterned mask today. I have three now, so I don’t bore the staff at Waitrose wearing the same one every week. COVID-19 cloth masks are all designed to steam my glasses up. And if steamed up glasses aren’t bad enough, I can’t see out of my Lockdown locks either, especially when it’s windy. I’m really not rocking the Neanderthal look.
Driving home, I make an indulgent plan to spend a creative afternoon honing the work-in-progress. But it’s not to be.
Walking through the door, Cassie the Blog Dog announces she is in the process of triggering an Amber Alert. A juvenile sparrow is ‘trapped’ in the sunroom. I liberate it after opening all the windows.
Feeling quite the rescuer, I make myself a cup of coffee and take it into the sitting room, where I am rendered speechless and begin to feel a little emotional, as well as slightly faint. The sparrow must have come down the chimney; he couldn’t have got in any other way.
We have a very pale, gold colour carpet in the sitting room, and it really is quite amazing how much soot one small bird can bring down a chimney with it. And how far its tiny, flapping sparrow wings can transport soot clouds across the carpet and furniture.
Six hours later, I slump into an armchair. I think I deserve a mid-week glass of wine, or two. Thank goodness I am getting my hair cut on Monday