Where I’m heading: To the empty house we have on the market to check the electric garage door opener is working for the new owners.
What the car radio sings on the way: Jeff Buckley. I feel sad about his death, he was so young; too young, and so talented. He had a wonderful voice, similar to that of Matt Bellamy of Muse; if Jeff Buckley was still alive, I don’t think anyone would bother listening to Muse.
What I think about my colleague going to Legoland tomorrow: It’s expensive, but they have discounts, they are lucky because many families don’t have discounts and they can’t afford to go. I went once when I was younger, with my old school friend and his mildly autistic brother; he drove on the wrong side of the road because that’s what he did in Legoland Billund, Denmark, and that’s what he felt he should do here. I wondered if that was because of his autism, or if it was because he was a child and still had a child’s logic. We called to him to but he didn’t listen, they gave him a Lego driving licence anyway.
What the phone does: Ring.
What the Indian man at the other end tells me: He has a deal for me, but I already have a phone, the one he’s ringing me on in fact, and I’m not interested in another.
What I do on the drive back from the empty house with the electric garage door: Ride with my foot on the clutch past the traffic in case a pedestrian steps out in front of me from between the cars and I have to do an emergency stop. I think about all of my papers that would end up in a heap in the footwell, and how long it would take me to sort them; then I think about the consequences of hitting someone with the car.
What the sun does in late October when the leaves are turning red and orange: Shine like it’s been summer forever and the torrential rain we had yesterday was just a lie to our senses.
What comes on the IPod shuffle at home: Glenn Miller – In The Mood.
What we do in the kitchen to Glenn Miller: Dance a pseudo-Twist like we’re in the 60’s to 40’s music, moving our knees side to side from one extreme to the other. The cats look at us as if we’re mad. They don’t want to join in, even when my wife grabs their front legs and tries to make them dance with us, and she’s a puppeteer. We both laugh like children. The house feels warm and homely.