My OperaThe best laid plans...
Sunday, March 29, 2009 5:43:30 PM
Once again the ridiculous farce that is daylight saving time is upon us.
Last night as mum contemplated going to bed at 4 or 5 o'clock as opposed to her usual 3 or 4 o'clock owing to the fact that 'they' were taking an hour out of her night which wasn't being reflected in the TV planning, we decided that we weren't going to go for the big switch, we were going to ignore the missing hour and just ease ourselves into nutime over the next few days. Or weeks.
Or months...
When I finally crawled into bed last night my 2nd alarm had very efficiently reset itself and the time was showing as 5:15. No worries, I would remain in bed until 1:00pm daylight saving time and have breakfast, that would put dinner at about 5 and tea around 9 or 10.
Into the arms of Morpheus I drifted.
About three and a half hours later I was awoken by the sound of the downstairs telephone. I half listened and heard no message being left, rolled over ready to back to sleep, and was immediately reawoken by the sound of the same telephone. Once again it rang as far as the no-one's-here message and then rang off.
I found it a little more difficult to ignore the second call. Suppose it was something important? It rang again. Still no message. Surely if it was important they'd leave a message? Unless...
Suppose it was something that they didn't want me to hear from an answering machine message?
It rang again. I was having a hard time persuading myself to get out of bed, but an equally hard time of it to go back to sleep, and by the 5th attempt I was pretty much awake. I decided that if it rang for a 6th time I would definitely get up.
For a while I thought there wasn't going to be a 6th attempt, but then after a shortish wait off it went. But this time there was a message. I couldn't make out the words, but it was some guy shouting at the top of his voice. Then he was gone.
I got up and clambered into last night's shirt and trousers (I put on clean underwear, you'll be glad to know), then since I couldn't find any socks nearby I ran/staggered downstairs barefoot and pressed the 'calls' button.
It was a breakdown van trying to find Mr. Simpson and his broken down car.
Last night as mum contemplated going to bed at 4 or 5 o'clock as opposed to her usual 3 or 4 o'clock owing to the fact that 'they' were taking an hour out of her night which wasn't being reflected in the TV planning, we decided that we weren't going to go for the big switch, we were going to ignore the missing hour and just ease ourselves into nutime over the next few days. Or weeks.
Or months...
When I finally crawled into bed last night my 2nd alarm had very efficiently reset itself and the time was showing as 5:15. No worries, I would remain in bed until 1:00pm daylight saving time and have breakfast, that would put dinner at about 5 and tea around 9 or 10.
Into the arms of Morpheus I drifted.
About three and a half hours later I was awoken by the sound of the downstairs telephone. I half listened and heard no message being left, rolled over ready to back to sleep, and was immediately reawoken by the sound of the same telephone. Once again it rang as far as the no-one's-here message and then rang off.
I found it a little more difficult to ignore the second call. Suppose it was something important? It rang again. Still no message. Surely if it was important they'd leave a message? Unless...
Suppose it was something that they didn't want me to hear from an answering machine message?
It rang again. I was having a hard time persuading myself to get out of bed, but an equally hard time of it to go back to sleep, and by the 5th attempt I was pretty much awake. I decided that if it rang for a 6th time I would definitely get up.
For a while I thought there wasn't going to be a 6th attempt, but then after a shortish wait off it went. But this time there was a message. I couldn't make out the words, but it was some guy shouting at the top of his voice. Then he was gone.
I got up and clambered into last night's shirt and trousers (I put on clean underwear, you'll be glad to know), then since I couldn't find any socks nearby I ran/staggered downstairs barefoot and pressed the 'calls' button.
It was a breakdown van trying to find Mr. Simpson and his broken down car.
