Sunday Morning Coming Down

I wake up far too early. Wave after wave of busy noises are coming from the apartment below. Clattering of pots, pans and plates. Doors are repeatedly slammed shut, only to be instantly opened again. Lumbering footsteps pace through rooms - Sunday breakfast in high heels.

I pull back the curtains and stare out of the window. A thick, grey blanket of clouds presses down on the leafless trees, the spires, and the rooftops of the city. The mood outside complements the mood inside. The morning, or what is left of it, is dominated by getting rid of a mild hangover.

BBC4 talks about the pope, condoms and male prostitutes. Squeeze's "Tempted" makes itself a home somewhere in my temporal lobe. It has no intention of leaving and I haven't got the slightest objection.

Lunch is sparse - deliberately so. The rest of the early afternoon is spent aimlessly flicking through the channels.

An hour later I get up and decide to get active - idleness has had its chance. The sky is still grey as I saunter across the empty streets. Old, majestic buildings on both sides of the street form a tunnel that might well take me to a time long gone. It is surprisingly mild, but only few pedestrians cross my path. There is the elderly couple, bickering about their shopping list; a young, foreign looking chap in baggy trousers, determined not to notice me while he walks past; a group of pensioners are giving me their warmest smiles as I walk past them. Their lively chatter bounces off the walls and cheerily echoes through the street.

I bump into an old friend and he invites me to his new apartment. It is old and spacious and delicately furnished. Nooks and alcoves and round arches compete with wide and open spaces. The place is the perfect melange between penthouse and medieval castle. I am hugely impressed. We talk a while and decide to meet up next weekend for a drink and a longer chat. I bid him farewell and make my way home to my suddenly so small and shabby abode. However, there is neither need nor time to ponder. The evening waits and it is filled with plans ...