I came home from Antwerp and Cologne early Friday morning, crashed out for a few hours from exhaustion, and have been a little off colour since. Sneezing and coughing, I’ve stayed at home apart from the short wanders to the local shops.
Carnival came and went. I cursed the helicopters hovering above and the whistles and horns screaching out on Queensway. Kensington Gardens on Sunday afternoon was less crowded than usual which was a nice surprise – caught a little sun while reading Chuck Palahniuk’s Survivor to try and ward off the flu symptoms.
Buying a drink and magazine at a shop that I occasionally visit, the gentleman behind the counter almost barked at me when I put my things on the counter – tempers seemed flared due to the crowds.
This afternoon I woke from a doze, sat up in bed, and a hissing cat sat staring at me through my open window. It took it’s paws off my window sill (looked like it was about to come for a visit) and we chatted for a while. I asked it questions (where do you live? what are you doing here? were you planning on coming in? where are you going?) and it miaowed at me for a few minutes. It must have felt interrogated because it started eyeing the roof, I could see it looking up and it’s hind legs shaking a little contemplating whether or not the angle of the jump was possible. It almost took off twice, in between attempts miaowing at me some more (perhaps asking advice) but the third time it shivered and disappeared on to my roof.
Finished reading Survivor and I’m impressed yet again by the style and content of Palahniuk.
Bought two new books : Lucinda Rosenfeld’s “What She Saw in…” (sounds like a comfortable chuckle of a read) and Alan Lightman’s “The Diagnosis” (the blurb reminds me of my own thoughts when I suffered my short bout of amnesia). Now to decide which one to read first.