Waking up and (indeed) getting up, have never been easy, at least according to Justine Frischmann (or, as some mischievous quarters would have it, Damon Albarn), and my own W.U.&.G.U. arrangements have taken a turn for the slightly more complicated with the decease of my alarm clock (in Los Molinos: It simply began to refuse to recognise when I was pressing the buttons on the top). However the other day, in my tidying frenzy, I turned up a christmas present from a couple of years ago, a stratocaster-shaped clock that plays random samples of rock-type… stuff. Yes. Its fundamental drawback as an alarm clock is that it goes off late, I forget about it and find that it starts doing its thing in the middle of my sitting, creating a distant but still disturbing droning noise.
Most often I’ve been using my telephone, but that relies on my remembering to take it to bed with me. Actually I usually find myself waking up before the clock goes off, wondering whether I’ve slept through it. A solution must be found.
Today’s project is the bathroom – I clear some of the shelves, clean the bath, toilet and wash-basin and vacuum the floor as best I can. The ongoing and perpetual drip situation does get in the way, both physically (the wooden panel that normally goes over the space where the tank is is leaning against the bathroom door, very much in the way, and the plastic tubing that’s syphoning the water off is difficult to work round) and psychologically (one block to cleaning the bathroom has been standing there and hearing the tap-tap-tap from upstairs and thinking “oh, why bother?”).
I also manage the gym, where the usual activities are undertaken, including the Lifting of Moderately Heavy Objects and the Simulated Snow Walking Machine. I must say, if I needed to walk somewhere on skis, I’d probably stay at home, no matter how good for me it was. The Scandinavians must be on to something, though, with their track record of success – IKEA, Abba and so forth.
Back at home, I find my capacity for good works somewhat limited and the rest of the day is spent with washing (still catching up with my washing) and practicing Joe’s songs. We will be performing these on Wednesday after one run-through with Joe and I haven’t even met the drummer yet. Mr Quillin makes for an exciting life. I’m only the bass player, so I can stand in the corner, in the shadows, and quickly make a run for it if things turn nasty.