Sketches from a morning
05.15.01 | No Comments
- Woke up periodically throughout the night, convinced that something was missing, and that I was going to sleep through my alarm clock. As a consquence, I was so tired I nearly did just that.
- Went through five clean white T-shirts, because I managed to stain the left sleeve of every single one in succession by reaching across my desk for earrings. The sleeves were stained bright orange yellow with asiatic lily pollen (gorgeous flowers, though). Mental note: that stuff does not come out (*thumps head on keyboard repeatedly*) Eventually opted for black t-shirt instead. Reached for earrings across desk. Did precisely the same thing again. Stain doesn’t show. Result.
- Standing on the platform at Willesden Junction, a girl aged about twenty is pacing in front of me. She’s wearing cropped trousers and a pale blue shirt, and her hair is straightened and coloured red. Her brown skin shines with oil in the weak morning sunlight. She paces backwards and forwards, at one end of the platform, muttering quietly to herself, gesticulating with quick fingers. She stops suddenly, reaches into her shoulder bag and pulls out a copy of The Tempest. Dog-eared and worn, she flicks through its soft yellowing pages, reads for a second and then replaces the book in her bag. She resumes her walk to nowhere, gesticulating and muttering urgently. The storm, the storm.
- Walking the streets of West Kensington around Olympia with fresh eyes, I shudder as I cross the road to the post office to buy a TV licence. Everything looks new.
- In the Armenian deli-from-helli, I simply couldn’t be bothered with the effort of ordering coffee. This caused great concern and nagging from EvilCop, who seems to think I have upset her morning routine in some way. Eventually, I relent and ask for the usual medium latte. She gives me a large hot chocolate. I do not complain.
- The trees outside my office window have all turned beautifully green during my week off. From my desk, it’s like standing in front of a chlorophyll sea, the tops of tall trees swaying in polluted air.
