Saturday Night (Former) Lives

If I were sensible I’d go to bed now instead of staying up courting Sunday morning regret, but I feel irresistibly drawn to my blog to say hello to all my virtual friends, as the last few weeks seem to have been unreasonably filled with an excess of real life and my quiet computer moments have been unjustly kept from me.

This, of course,  is not quite fair as mostly I have been having a rollicking good time with a beloved friend from England, now returned, and also my dear Papa has been visiting this weekend  from Washington DC which has been much anticipated and enjoyed by all members of the family, but I must confess I’m looking forward to Monday when I can send everyone back to work/school/nursery and have the house to myself again.

Many people claim to have been Cleopatra or other significant historical figures in their former lives:

I make no such claim.

It is quite clear to me that I was one of those grubby hermits who lived in a cave and shouted at people to go away when they came near, only accepting offerings of food in exchange for not placing curses on their offspring. I would wear some sort of animal skin taken from the carcass of an unfortunate beast that I had hunted with a handmade bow and arrow and then roasted on my fire. No, actually I can’t see myself doing that. I think I accepted blankets and clothes (good quality, clean and pressed) from the same anxious people who left me casseroles. I would have a nice comfy bed made of straw and I would have tamed many adorable critters who would be my friends but wouldn’t disturb me when I was trying to think and would never ask me to do any washing up or laundry and were generally silently supportive of all my hermit-projects and dreams. If I wanted to do any kind of cave improvements they would assist me in gathering supplies and be helpful and appreciative of my efforts, and if I happened to quote any of my hermit poetry at them they would snuggle closer and grow misty-eyed with animal emotion.
Oh yes! It was a fine former life! I am sure that this is who I was. My predilection for solitude and self-sufficiency points inevitably this way.

Either that or I was a tortoise.

The good thing about being a tortoise is that you can go to sleep wherever you are and you don’t have to walk very far to get home or worry about getting a cab or driving drunk etc. I wonder how that works, though, if you want high speed internet? How can you be guaranteed good reception? Do you have to be permanently roaming with one of those little card thingies sticking out of your shell? Or would you just have a turtlephone?

So many questions! And so little time because I am falling asleep on the computer (Sunday morning beckons despite my denial) and unlike my tortoise (former or future life?) I do have to walk a few steps to my bed and will no doubt be joined in it by Two and Five much sooner than I would normally choose.

Goodnight, lovely friends!

Tweet