There are some days where you just wish that you’d never gotten out of bed, days when you wish that instead of exiting your warm, quilted sanctuary at the harsh squawking of your alarm you’d instead thumbed the off button, rolled over and returned to peaceful slumber. For me, today was one of those days not least because it was a Sunday and I’d forgotten to turn off my alarm last night but also because it started out badly and then just got worse. There is a saying about not being able to see past the end of one’s nose which for me is quite literally true; I am very short-sighted and consequently can’t see more than about six inches from my face without the world around me turning into a blurry mush. Thanks to the wonders of contact lenses, this doesn’t bother me too much however it does mean that before I’ve put said lenses in, I have to deal with some minor inconveniences such as not being able to pee standing up…actually that’s not entirely true, I can pee standing up, I just would rather not have to rely on sound alone to determine that it’s going in the bowl. Another issue is that I rely on a tactile search of my bedside cabinet to locate my alarm when it goes off in the morning. Most days this isn’t a problem however there is the odd occasion when the phone gets knocked on the floor along with my contact lens case and, this morning, a glass of water.
Fortunately, after not too much swearing and patting of random bits of sodden floor, I managed to locate the aforementioned objects and climbed back under the covers. Alas, my peaceful repose was to be shortlived; before I could fall asleep I was faced with that question that has plagued mankind since time immemorial: to pee or not to pee? Whether ‘tis Nobler in the mind to suffer the pangs and irritation of a small bladder or to give way to a Sea of troubles, and by acquiescing, end them. You all know what it’s like, it’s cold outside, it’s warm under the covers yet if you don’t obey the call of nature, it might get quite a bit warmer. Cursing quietly to myself, I took a deep breath and launched myself once more into the chilly air and padded towards the bathroom. Having sat down and relieved myself, I was slightly alarmed to hear a dripping sound and feel a puddle underneath my heel. I spent a few seconds trying to work out how I’d missed the bowl from point blank range before common sense made an all too rare foray into my consciousness and told me something wasn’t quite right with my plumbing….the toilet that is, not my….never mind. I could hear the dripping sound coming from my left and took a punt that it might be the pipe which refills the cistern. My hunch was confirmed when I gripped the pipe and felt the water leaking between my fingers. Oh joy, oh rapture I thought as I grabbed my contact lens, popped them in and set about cleaning up the mess.
Several soaked towels and a closed valve later, I’d not fixed the leak but at least isolated the pipe and turned off its water supply. By this point however, I was very much wide awake and didn’t see the point in trying to go back to sleep. I flicked on the TV only to find out that Sir Terry Wogan, a man who had made the Eurovision actually enjoyable to watch, whose breakfast show I had listened to every day when I worked in Belfast over five years ago, had become the latest high profile entertainer to succumb to cancer. Yes, I know that amongst all the human suffering that has become such a staple of our daily news broadcasts but at the same time, I’m sorry he’s gone and back in the 70s and 80s when the Irish were getting a bad rep in the mainland UK thanks to the IRAs campaign of violence, he’d been the antithesis to the stereotype of Paddies being car-bombing terrorists, a sentiment which even today, following years of relative peace in Northern Ireland, I occasionally get slagged about. Therefore, I’d like to end with one of his quips:
“So many things I miss. And, you know, I wouldn’t have missed them for anything.”