A LIFE IN THE DAY OF “ME”
I have to get up quite early on a Saturday, well early for me, half nine – ridiculous. It’s because I have a music lesson at half ten. The sound of that droning alarm with that repetitive beeping seems to wake you up by attempting to drive you insane. As I turn to flick that grey switch which will bring the peace and tranquillity back, the light gets me, blinding, like a thousand knives piercing my eyes over and over. My body as I twist to flick the switch moulds into a twisted archway, like an archway of vines or ivy, my arm and fingers stretch out, feeling the air. Like a snake flicking its tongue I squirm to relieve my ears of the BEEP, BEEP BEEPIN’ noise.
I swing my legs over the edge of my bed like an anchor being thrown over board to land a Caribbean pirate ship. The floor seems soft but hard at the same time; a sudden chill shoots up my spine as the covers sail away from my body, towards the far away land of the floor by the door. Legs and arms work together, giving me balance and leverage to lift my half asleep body from the mattress that seems so far below. I’m flying, I’m so high, no, I’m a giant, my galumphing feet carry me as they do each and every morning to the loo, where the waterworks commence and a strange feeling of relief and morning floods into my body. Now onwards, “into the breech my friends, into the breech.” once again the tape is trickling from my parents a few hours before, the water is warm funnily, quite soothing, a daze seems to come over me, I’m away with the clouds my hands moving backwards and forwards under the tap. No slowly, too and fro, it has a massaging quality of peacefulness. Startled with the sounds of the beast downstairs, yeah that’s father yelling “, get a move on or we’ll be late.” I swoop like an eagle, about to take its prey, into my bedroom. Cupboard doors swing open I grab the same pair of tracksuit as every week, the same sorry five-pound fruit of the loom hoody that I bought in Cornwall such along time ago.
