Friday, May 25, 2007

Crunch.

Grumpy morning.

Dawn gets out of bed and starts ironing. I have never known anyone who could face a pile of ironing each and every morning.

Five minutes later, I rub my bleary eyes and join Dawn in the kitchen. Coffee and much yawning and rubbing of eyes. It's seven thirty.

Five minutes later, the Kirsty emerges. She's grumpy and not speaking. The television goes on, and a quick unspoken inspection reveals that there is not enough room in the kitchen to fix breakfast. Back to the telly.

Ironing finished, Dawn goes upstairs to get ready, and to get Connor up.

I sit in the lounge reading the newspaper.

The Kirsty goes to make breakfast.

Connor comes down.

The Kirsty goes upstairs to get ready - The marathon has begun. I am sure the Kirsty will not mind me referring to it as a marathon.

I offer to make breakfast for Connor, but he doesn't want it yet. He lies in a heap under his quilt on the sofa, with just enough room to be able to see whatever is on the telly. The programme this morning is about some bloke whose fiance was killed in a bomb blast and has since found love again. I wonder what's going through Connor's head at this point!

I am still embedded in a two day old newspaper.

Dawn comes down and fixes Connor breakfast. She sets up a little TV table and puts the breakfast in front of the heaped duvet, and disappears back upstairs. The quilt doesn't move.

Ten minutes later, I notice that the quilt has not moved. I suggest Connor eats some breakfast. Eventually the quilt moves.

Five minutes later, Dawn is summoned, due to a shortage of milk on said cereal.

Dawn is ready now, and goes to the shop to assemble the missing items for this morning's routine. Bread and milk. Connor's breakfast receives the requisite top-up.

Eventually breakfast is finished and Connor and the quilt go back upstairs. Presumably from Dawn's bemusement, both find their way back onto the bed.

Dawn's in the kitchen, finally fixing her own breakfast. It's about eight thirty now. I take my leave and head off home.

The only thing missing in today's routine was Tom. He stayed at a friend's house last night because he has no school today. Today's routine was quiet. Sleepy, grumpy, and very quiet. What a difference a Tom makes!!!

I reach my garden gate. Step through and....

Crunch.

Snail beneath my trainer is obliterated into broken shell and mush.

The second of realisation, and as my other foot goes down.....

Crunch.

It's a bad morning for snails.

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