It's half past midnight and I am toying with the idea of making myself a latte with whipped cream, a sprinkling of brown sugar and maybe a dash of Irish cream. But it seems like an awful lot of hassle and noise when I've already brushed my teeth and the house is asleep. Pity I still have to go and pick my parents up from the airport.
They were due here over three hours ago but their flight got cancelled, so they boarded one for Birmingham instead, where they waited for their luggage for one hour and are now about to get onto the bus that should bring them here at... I don't know, say 2 am? Maybe a little earlier if I am lucky? I am absolutely terrified of going through an unexpected sleepy patch just before I am due to don the puffa coat, scrape ice off the car and get going. Good job I am only three miles off the runaway. Maybe I should leave now? Surely, I won't fall asleep in the terminal?
As Kathleen from You've Got Mail says: 'I lead a small life. Valuable, but small.' I am not entirely sure whether my life is small or big, and certainly I would find it near impossible to define what makes a life one or the other. But what I do know is that my life never entails wild nights out that end at the crack of dawn. In fact, apart from a few freak occurrences at university, not even then did my life develop on the wings of such excesses. And so to be up at this time of night is a bit of a shocking thing really. I guess I too lead a small life, at least in this sense.
Maybe I could kill time by visiting that Tesco that is open 24 hours. Imagine that! I detest food shopping at the best of times, as documented elsewhere, imagine firing up the Shaguar now to have a stroll around the place which I detest even more than food shopping itself. Or I could catch a late movie, couldn't I? Well, scrap that. I just had a look and the last showing started hours ago anyway.
I feel surprisingly perky, all things considered. Now I feel more like eating than when I first sat down here but the thought of clicking the fridge open is sending shivers down my spine. It would prompt The Beasts to hurtle in the darkness and poor Rick, who is planning on getting to work early in the morning, setting off at just past 6 am, would be jerked out of the dreams he has been catching since 11 pm. But then maybe William really is asleep... He is curled up into a tight ball in the bed by the radiator, eyes squeezed shut... Maybe if I am really, really, really quiet and if I move in slow-mo he may not notice...
