Wake up early, as every day. The cat is alerted and starts to wander about begging for food. At the sight of the mess in the kitchen ignore the cat completely. The wife has stacked her shoppin stuff around the place, and the son had started to cook something in the middle of it. The whole scene is one of extreme complexity, with dirty dishes and cutlery balanced on table edges accompanying shopping bags filled with bargain bags of crisps. It is an undisciplined scenario with piles of special offers everywhere. accompanied by cutlery and crockery that has not made the two metre journey into the dishwasher.
Go back to bed, and try to force more sleep, this disaster is not worth thinking about, and being a saint and just clearing up that filthy mess would lead to the complete end of any self-respect. There is the urge to throw things on the floor, to engage in wanton destruction out of rage. Tidy away the rage, try to ignore the tinnitus, just go back to bed and do what everyone els is doing, including the cat as somebody.
It is half past eight and bright, get up again. Like a horse with blinkers on navigate the complexity of the kitchen and make a sort of small breakfast. Eat it at the table in the overheated still dusty air of the living room.
The coffee is a delight.
Then clear the cup and the plate away, find shoes and go upstairs to the attic refuge.
Read the news, read about America's return to simple minded barbarity, read about Russia's love of serfdom and wonder at the Chinese drive for power.
And then write these daily notes, in the hope that they will continue tomorrow.
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