“Why are we waking so early?”
And it is early. It’s 6.30. I’m on holiday. To be honest, I would prefer to sleep but it’s better having him here than not and, anyway, I have loads of things I want to do; that I should do; that I should be doing instead of typing this. I have convinced myself that it is better to get up with him.
“Because you are going to Venice”, I reply, adding, “Shall I put it for another 5 minutes?”
He doesn’t answer but I do it anyway.
He starts to get up.
“Do you want coffee?”, I ask.
He mumbles something in a sort of English but the answer is yes, so I get up too and make the coffee.
After he’s gone, I check the weather. It’s supposed to be raining hard but I can’t tell with the windows closed. I go to open the bedroom windows to air the room – something I do now because it’s a habit he’s got me into. I’m not really a fresh air person unless it’s warm and, whilst not exactly cold, it is not warm.
It is raining. I check the forecast again and it’s going to be like this until lunchtime. It’s not good, we shall have to go out.
I get ready.
I think about texting him to say ‘be careful’ but he has probably already left. I’ll text him later and, anyway, he’ll text me when he arrives, I expect.
It’s market day today in the street near mine. I was (if the weather had been good) going to wander through the market and maybe buy some stuff. I shan’t bother now. Now I’ll do the things I should do; the things I should have done before and other things I can do now that I bought some stuff yesterday.
“Yes”, I keep saying to myself, “it’s better that I got up early.”
Although I’m not altogether convinced, really.
“mumbles something in a sort of English”
this made me laugh as I can’t speak English BEFORE my morning coffee. I just can’t.
Yes, the weather is dreadful. I’m at home too but can’t go out with Duick… he’d get too wet. We’ll have a short walk in the garden even though he doesn’t like it.
ps. It seems that F and I have lots in common. I also air the room every single day. Even when it’s cold.
I know and I understand. For me, when speaking Italian, it’s like first thing in the morning all the time
I don’t mind them getting wet. They dry. They’re a bit smelly though. And they both hate the rain. Rufus was really dragging this morning, as if to say, ‘I really want to stop now.’
p.s. Yes, it’s an Italian thing, although some British people do it too. The Italians I know call it ‘changing the air’ – although quite why you would want to change the air inside for the smog outside, I can never quite fathom