Farming, Frosties and Darcy Bussell

I woke up too early again this morning, but it gave me an opportunity to sit in bed, cup of tea in one hand, Suduko in the other, listening to ‘Farming Today’ on the radio. I’ve now discovered a whole raft of new things to worry about; how more male lambs are born than female, should animals be electronically tagged for market? etc.

After recovering from this dawning of discovery, I consoled myself with a bowl of Frosties and then hopped into the bath. Lying on my back, I was enjoying swishing my head from side to side and feeling my hair follow in slow motion and feeling sorry for people who have always had short hair and have missed this experience. The bath is a bit short, so to get my hair properly wet, I have to stick my legs in the air. I took the opportunity to point my toes and practise a pirouette – if you are interested in taking up ballet, but missed the chance earlier in life, this is a good way to start. As I ‘landed’ the roaring approval of the crowd dimmed in my head as I realised my left toe was pointing at a patch of ceiling I had missed in my previous decorating exploits. I felt a bit better as I waited for the iron to warm up and had another short spasm of being Darcy Bussell in the kitchen.

On the way in to work, I was listening to an inherited ‘Favourites’ tape and came across a really beautiful choral piece. As I sat in a traffic jam in Morden’s gyratory system I tried to imagine angels darting out of the clouds. I wondered whether they would stop for a rest on top of a street light, or line up like crows on the telephone wires.

Finally got to work, no angels, no crowd roaring its approval as I executed an elegant gravity-defying leap. Just an overloaded in tray and a list of e-mails.

At least I arrived without the help of anyone in a satellite (be it John/Virgil or the woman who sounds like Mrs Thatcher).