6.30am. I find my thick red jumper to put on under my hoodie, so another joint is possible, before Saffy gets up. I find that even with exercising, I can wear shorts in any weather, as long as my top is warm. I need gloves, though. And a second pair of track pants, if I was honest.
“Give me a little drink, from your Loving cuup…”
I had only just come in, when my earbuds were pulled out forcibly, in the middle of Ruby Tuesday. “Look at you wrapped in your bunny rug.”
“It is freezing, it is true, it is freezing.”
“What time did you get up?”
“Oh, you know.”
“Oh, you know,” he parrots. He takes me off by screwing up his mouth and making a lot of zzzzzzzzz noises.
“Good morning, pumpkin.”
“Don’t you good morning pumpkin me. Have you had your breakfast? Have you eaten your breakfast?” I am sure he is talking to me like I am mentally incompetent.
“No.”
“Smoked salmon and avocado, you make the toast,” says Sam. “Move! Now!”
“Okay. Okay.” I get up and walk into the kitchen.
“There is no egg,” says Sam. “And it is cold in here.”
“No egg?”
“No egg.”
“We’ve got to have egg.”
“No egg.”
“There must be egg.”
“No egg.”
“There must be egg, come on! Poached eggs.”
“No egg.”
“How can you be so unkind, no, egg.”
“Why is it always your way,” says Sam. “Why is it always the Christian Fletcher way?”
There is going to be egg.
I head outside and get sticks from the stick pile. I pile the different sized sticks up over the fire lighter. I light the fire lighter.
There is very blond toast on the kitchen bench. “Cook this some more.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“The other toast is cooking.”
“You are cooking more toast?”
“You said two pieces.”
“But these pieces are big,” I say. “That is a lot of toast.”
“Well, I’ve already cooked them.”
“Two pieces,” I say. “One piece each.”
“I thought you meant two each.”
“Clearly.”
Buddy sits in my lap. He uses my right arm as his head rest. When I continue moving it, he puts his left paw up to, maybe to steady my arm. It is tiring typing with a bulldog counter weight.
I put more wood on the fire.
We buy Wicked Stepmother and Bordertown, Bette Davis last movie and one of her first. You’ve got to love PayPal. $54.
The Star is on its way.
I’ve got Little Foxes to watch today. As soon as pumpkin has left for work.
I don’t see why I can’t collect all of her movies, really finish the movie collection that I started, how many years ago. All the good ones, anyway, I don’t need to see the shit, certainly not the 3 movies she called junk herself.
7.30am. Joint outside. It is freezing. The sun is coming out.
Saffy leaves at 8am.
8.03am. I’m outside having a number. Freezing! Good lord. Buddy has just coming storming back down from the back garden.
“I’m just waiting on a friend.”
I put Little Foxes on, when I go back inside. I fall asleep on the couch.
I can't say that Little Foxes was one of my favourites a period, period piece. To be fair, I did sleep through most of it.
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