A day in the life and in that day…
Woke at 7am when I should have got up at 6.45 really. I am doing a radio show later today so need to look good. So now have half and hour to breakfast, shower, wash and blow dry hair, slap on make up and get dressed. Will never do it. Shout at Andrew while washing hair.
‘Don’t let the porridge get cold and can you throw some grapes in mine? Are you making yourself a sandwich? Can you make me one please’
‘Am I here just to serve you,’ he retorts.
‘Yes,’ I answer, emerging like a drowned rat from the shower and plugging in the iron.
I now have 20 minutes left.
‘Did you make coffee? I ask. Niceties go flying out of the window in our house first thing in the morning.
He tut tuts at me as he walks into the lounge with his breakfast. I shove mine in the microwave and then blow dry hair. I now have fifteen minutes left. My thyroid decides to make its presence felt and my heart races at speeds I would love to work at. I pop two beta-blockers with my coffee (yes sensible I know). Hair dried, I attempt my porridge, which is now too hot, and the grapes burn my tongue. Husband gets the blame and now I sense he is no longer talking to me. I remember the iron is on and run out to iron clothes. I have five minutes left. I leave porridge, throw my make up into a carrier bag along with the peanut butter and then throw back the rest of my coffee. Get dressed; push bracelets over my wrist and risk glancing in the mirror. I pinch my cheeks and look to Andrew.
‘Wish me luck,’ I say. He does, kisses me goodbye and makes the bed without me knowing. I jump in my car and struggle with the seat belt. Then I am off. Ten minutes of road rage follow when I get stuck behind some old man driving at 20 miles per hour.
I screech round him and speed to work arriving just on time. Half an hour into work time I develop diarrhoea and make inane excuses to leave the room. It is embarrassing. I sit talking to patients and then get the overwhelming urge to go. This lasts for nearly an hour before I decide to pop 4 Imodium to constipate an elephant, and thank god that stops it. I make a mental note to reheat our food thoroughly in future and stop eating that out of date food. Finally it is time to go, and I dive into my car and race to the radio station for my debate. I cannot park, great! Everywhere has a yellow line or worse still a red one. I park in the Coop car park, slap some lippy on and go to pay at the machine. I wait and wait for my ticket and then realise it wants my registration. I mean why? What the hell does a machine need my registration for? Even I don’t know it so why do they want it. Now, the bloody thing has my money, I have no ticket and the penalty is £100 or clamp. Wonderful. I strain to see my car and try to make out the reg. I bang in the numbers and figures and recheck how long I have. My £1.50 entitles me to just 1 hour and 15 mins. Great! I ransack my bag but no more money can be found. I am late so decide to take my chances. The wind is blowing a gale and I arrive at the radio station looking like a scarecrow. The guy at the desk has no idea who I am and says nothing has been booked for BBC radio Scotland. I am about to leave dejected, when Gillian the producer comes in. I hug her in relief and Claire the presenter hugs me in relief. Lots of hugs and relief all round and we enter studio and wait for Alex who is also taking part. Claire rummages in her handbag for her phone, which is ringing.
‘Bloody bag is not large enough’ she complains lifting up a handbag large enough to hold my cat.
Gillian decided the studio is too small and we move to another one with no chairs.
‘Are we doing it standing up?’ I ask
‘Not in my bleeding shoes,’ answers Claire and I love her immediately.
We spend an hour doing the show, amidst some fun and laughter.
Then it is over and we are outside. Alex and I exchange numbers, and she stares fascinated at my Blackberry.
‘Never seen one in action before,’ she comments to which we all laugh.
Photos are quickly taken and then a big hug for Gillian and Claire and they are off for their flight back to Scotland. Alex and I walk and chat and then part after arranging to meet up again. Another hug and then I make my way back to my car to see if I am clamped. NO, all is well and not even a ticket. I sneak back to Marks and Spencer, but force myself to walk by and get some last minute shopping in the Coop. I am somewhat flummoxed when the assistant asks me nicely,
‘So are you going home for a quiet evening in front of the television’?
I am lost for words. I usually use the self-service thing and that never speaks to me.
‘Erm, I don’t have a television actually but If I did then yes I would be going home to watch something very good I imagine,’ I say giving her a friendly look.
‘You don’t own a TV,’ she says and I feel like I have just admitted to taking an A class drug.
‘What do you do then?’
‘In the evenings?’
She is not even packing my things now, so I irritatingly shove them in a carrier bag.
‘I have mad passionate sex. How much is that?’
Wide eyed she pops my card in the reader and cannot even bring herself to say chip and pin please.
I drive home, free from road rage and feel quite calm. Phone bleeps as I near home and I realise I have almost missed my blood test. I swerve and turn the car around and speed back to the Doctors only to find I have the day wrong and that it is tomorrow.
Finally arrive home to find the cat is so pleased to see me he has bought me a present. I clean up yet another mouse. Oh isn’t life just fun!