*sets the scene*
It is 9am Saturday.
I am propped up in my lovely, lovely bed with lovely, lovely clean bed-linen and my lovely, lovely new 12.5 Tog duvet.
I have tea.
I have cereal.
The iPod docking station is playing lovely, lovely music. Anemo’s ‘Music Box’, at the moment.
And I am thinking, pensively.
There’s much to do today.
I need to get up, shower, shave, teeth, get dressed and pack for a night away.
I am meeting a friend in Newbury for lunch. When we’re done with that she’ll be off to have things done to her. You know, hair, and all that.
I have to check in to a hotel in Newbury (no, not with the friend, you dirty-minded thing).
At about 6pm I need to do more bathroom-related things, then change in to my dinner suit, dress shirt, bow-tie (I hope I can remember how to tie it!) and shiny shoes.
I’m meeting my friend and a bunch of other people for some pre-event drinks, in the hotel reception.
And then we’re all going out to a Ball.
It’s the ‘Event Riders Association’ Ball.
We have a couple of taxis booked to get us there. And to get us back again afterwards.
Before we all turn in to pumpkins.
But before I can do any of those exciting things, there’s the most mundane – yet difficult – obstacle to overcome.
The ‘getting out of bed’.
Bugger me, it’s difficult.
Especially when ones bed is so comfortable. And warm. And cosy. And the music in here is so good. And…
I don’t actually have to get up
*snuggles back down*