A day in the life

Warning: long, dull and extremely self-indulgent post follows. Sufferers from insomnia might find that this relieves their symptoms, others are advised to take evasive action now.

3:00 or thereabouts: briefly awake. I refuse to acknowledge this and go back to sleep.

8:03 awake. Lie in bed for a few minutes, trying to fix the images of my dream. I have had this dream before, or have dreamed of this landscape and these buildings before: a green valley in or just outside a small, ancient city, Jerusalem or Tuscany; in the valley yet on a hilltop is a kind of museum. I am touring the museum with a group of friends (from various places and times, but in the dream we are all the same age: around 20); the museum is already open although still under construction, flapping tarpaulens and dirt are everywhere. The exhibits include many groups of mannequins in costume, one of the figures speaks to me! it is a live person wearing costume. I run off to tell N but cannot convince her. She bets me 50 Euros that the "person" was a dummy; we return to the scene, but he refuses to speak or to look at us so I lose the bet. We go outside, and the valley has become the rocky seashore at Genoa, traffic pounds on the elevated highway above our heads.

Got up, dressed for the first time in yesterday's shirt and my Greenpeace shorts. Going commando.

Stepped onto the balcony, noted that it's a cool and low-humidity morning, and so ran about the apartment opening all windows.

8:30 breakfast, a big bowl of fibresticks, during which I finished reading "Oldest living Confederate widow tells all." Good tale well told, recommended.

8:50 checking e-mail: 34 spam, 1 database question. Answered the latter, deleted the former.

9:00 started my RSS reader, looked through the night's harvest. Not much of interest. Read a few pieces. Started writing this piece, to be posted last thing at night before going to bed.

9:36 thinking about getting ready for the day. Did the morning 4S: shit, shave, shower, shampoo. Those fibresticks work really well. Dressed for the second time in black t-shirt and classic stonegrey Tilley pants (best trousers in the world), this time with underwear and even socks.

9:51 start looking for my watch. I have the habit of taking it off and leaving it lying around in odd places. I find it on top of the refrigerator.

9:53 leave the house for the first time, local shopping for milk and cookies. Halfway out the door, I remember that I have yet again left the wet towel lying on my bed, and return to hang it up.

9:58 no cookies. I have absolutely no money in my wallet, and only two Euros in coins.

10:00 preparing to leave the house for the second time, heading downtown. Library book in hand (to be returned at the local branch library), iPod on belt, telefonino in pocket. In my trousers' safety pocket is a hundred Euro note from my secret stash, in case the cash machine is borked again.

No camera, it's too large for my pockets and the day is going to be too hot'n'sweaty for a backpack. Ah, but I have a bellybag, would that ... yes, it would. But it hangs just where the iPod should clip onto my belt. Damnation. Does the iPod fit in the bellybag? Not once the camera's in there, no. Damnation. I shall apparently have to choose between iPod and camera. (This is another reason why I prefer cooler weather: wearing a jacket gives you so many more pockets.)

10:09 out the door, with iPod, without camera.

10:11 at the local library, book successfully returned without incident.

10:22 the cash machine is not borked, good.

10:35 first stop: the Espresso-Laden, home of the finest cappucino in Stuttgart. Made with Illy, obviously. Neither of my two favourite Baristas is on duty this morning, so I talk to the rally driver (another regular) about a three-day alpine competition he will be taking part in this weekend, in a 1930 Aston-Martin.

10:55 second stop: Einklang, where I habitually dispose of my excess income. Picked up a copy of the Claudio Abbado Zauberflöte which I wrote about in my last trainblog, and Pergolesi's Stabat Mater performed by the Academy of Ancient Music.

While there, I have another experience of what is known in my family as "the New Yorker effect:" the day after you first encounter something (a word, a concept, a new car), you will see half a dozen references to it. My sister sent me a CD by Feist for my birthday, featuring Gonzales on piano. Never heard of either of them. Well, I saw CDs by both in Einklang.

11:30 walk to the Karlsplatz, expecting the w*rld c*p to have summoned forth a particularly juicy Flohmarkt; instead I find the square fenced off, with one huge tent in the middle courtesy of Bosch. Where would we be without sparkplugs?

11:40 third stop: the Library. Starvation rations: only four books and an audio CD.

12:00 walk towards the Stadtmitte. Buy a Coke (3.50 Euros! seven Deutschmarks for a Coke! Donner und Blitzen) and sit in the shade to watch the flow of people on the Königstrasse.

12:30 passing by the sports megastore (yes yes, Stuttgart is moving with the times. Sigh. We even have a proper norteamericano Mall which I will tell you about on another occasion) I decide to look at bicycles. There are seven to choose from, those that are not appallingly teenagerish cost 500 Euros. Given that this is not significantly cheaper than the specialist bikeshop around the corner, which sells a goodly vehicle for 550 Euros, I would rather spend the extra money and support a local business. Not that I can afford it right now.

12:50 passing by a travel agency, I stop in to do some preliminary info-gathering for a possible short holiday in October.

13:20 take the streetcar home, via that same local shop; this time with money in pocket, I buy cookies and an avocado. (I should mention that the reason I don't do any large-scale grocery shopping, is that Thursday was a holiday, I stocked up on edibles on Wednesday evening after work.)

13:25 home. Unpack everything. Change back into Greenpeace shorts and bare feet (but keep the underwear). Plug in the iPod to recharge its battery. Sit down and bring this list up to date.

13:33 I type the words "I type the words." What now? How about lunch? good idea. And having made that decision I of course immediately check for e-mail. One request for computer assistance, one blog comment from Antonia, half a dozen spams. Not bad. Decide to wait until after lunch to reply to the internet problem.

13:40 my telefonino rings! My database-venture partner from Munich wants to know what happened to his request for new printing labels, which his assistant mailed me two weeks ago. Oops. Buried in the paperwork somewhere. I ask him to fax me another copy.

13:42 re-read this piece, and make some substantial edits and expansions.

14:00 think again that lunch might be a good idea, and that now might be a suitable time to have it. Decide to have a cooked meal now and salad for dinner. Put on rice, frozen spinach with Gorgonzola and a breaded pork cutlet.

14:02 stand on the balcony, decide that it will be both possible and pleasant to eat lunch there. Set up the braunes Rolltablett. Observe my neighbours on the next balcony over eating lunch (he too has an iBook; I suspect that his is one of the unprotected WLAN networks, because a publicly-shared Canon S450 printer shows up in my list of available devices). Wash up last night's dishes and clean the kitchen somewhat.

14:19 back in the office, note that the sun has come around onto this side of the building. Lower the shutters.

14:20 stirring and scraping in various pots. It occurs to me that I have forgotten to buy mayonnaise for the salads, but there is probably enough left to do for two meals. Of course I could go to Tengelmann, they're open until 16:00; and if I'm going to go there then it would be just silly not to walk fifty metres further to the Apple store. Alberich needs a head of his own, sharing a monitor with Nina is not working out. Not that I can afford it right now.

14:26 mis-timed it again: the cutlet is ready, the veg is more than ready, but the rice is still wet. I swear that cooking rice is weather-dependent, I always use the exact same amount of rice and water, but it cooks at a different rate and achieves a different state of moistitude (sometimes even soggy) each time.

14:29 lunch is served.

15:04 I have eaten lunch, and read the first chapter of "Neverwhere" by Neil Gaiman. Now it's time for a little work. And having made that decision I of course immediately check for e-mail: nothing but spam. Sigh. To work (I wheel my chair along the desk to Alberich, and gently wake him from his sleep.)

16:00 it's tea-time! Polly put the kettle on.

16:32 the printing labels are ready, I send them off by e-mail. Time for me to check my e-mail: spam. I put the new Zauberflöte on, take another cookie, and open the libretto. When I hear an opera (or choral work) for the first time, I like to read the libretto while listening; on subsequent occasions I leave the book alone unless something in the text strikes me.

19:07 well, that was very good indeed. Time to open the shutters and make another cup of tea. But first, of course: check for e-mail. Nada, not even spam. Ah well, tea on the balcony with the second chapter of "Neverwhere" sounds good.

Astute readers may have noticed at this point, that I haven't done a single minute of work on the Hobbyist project today.

20:40 cold. Need to put on trousers and slippers if I'm going to stay on the balcony any longer. While I'm here, check the mail again: spam. Decide to have the rest of Friday's Maultaschen for dinner, overriding previous plan for salad. While the water is boiling, read a few blogs. There is a particular sequence to this, based on the order that they were added to my list of favourites; while I occasionally skip a few, I seldom jump back & forth in the list.

20:58 return to the kitchen, open the refrigerator and discover that I am an idiot. There are no Maultaschen, Friday's lot were presumably "the rest" from some other previous day. Damn and blast. What to do with this salted boiling water? Bah. Perhaps I shall have salad after all.

20:59 on my knees before the open fridge door, I discover that I really am an idiot. The Maultaschen were hiding behind the quarter watermelon, which has suddenly gone bad, the bag is full of greenish juice (thank God I bagged it). Into the bin with it, then into the salted boiling water (which fortunately I had not yet dumped out) with the Maultaschen. Good.

21:00 my God what a stink, the garbage has to be taken out now. And put out the paper-recycling while you're at it.

The most expensive pair of shoes I ever bought, are now about sixteen years old. I wear them when taking out the garbage, and have never worn them at any other times. They are very beautiful shoes, elegant Spanish woven-leather slip-ons in a rich dark brown. But I must have been drunk when I bought them, because they don't fit and never have done. I have relatively wide feet, the Spanish have relatively narrow feet; were I to walk more than forty metres in these shoes, I would start bleeding from under my toenails. (I hope that image doesn't spoil anyone's appetite.)

21:02 dinner. And after it a few more chapters of "Neverwhere."

22:17 back at the computer, tea in hand (well: tea in cup, cup in hand), blogs for the reading of.

23:23 updated and edited this list, inserting clarifications and expanding a few previous items. Decide that I have to do this again on a weekday, to prove that my life isn't all beer and skittles. [Did that, and posted it here.)

23:43 copy and paste into Blogger's Post erstellen window. Edit again. Realize that I have forgotten poor W and her internet problem, make a note in iCal to call her tomorrow morning.

00:29 I declare victory, swig down the rest of my Campari Soda, and go to brush my teeth. Like Signora Brunetti, I walk around the flat while brushing my teeth: looking out the front window, turning off lights, sending the computers to sleep.

00:31 posted. And so to bed, where I shall read (Boethius, "The consolations of philosophy") for half an hour or so.

And how was your day?