Sitting at the dining table with Monkey, who is having his breakfast. Always the same thing: two slices of bread with butter and a glass of milk. He’s never been into cereal and the only variation is that he sometimes asks me to do toast for him. B is similar, always has the same thing, but he is a complete weirdo and I normally scrunch up my nose as I just don’t get it. Granola – fine (quite like granola too, although sparsely as I find it way too sweet). Yoghurt – fine (I love natural yoghurt, but B adds sickly sweet vanilla yoghurt to the already super sweet granola, yuk). Milk – come again? You must mean a glass of milk on the side? Oh no, all of this he’ll have together.
He’ll start by putting the granola in, a huge helping of it. Then he pours milk on top, and lastly he adds a dollop of yoghurt. What the hell is up with that? I’d either have yoghurt and put something on top, like oatbran or on rare occasions a sprinkling of granola. Or, I’ll have cereal with milk. This sweet and very odd concoction that B seems to favour makes no sense to me.
I remember the first time I spent the night at B’s place. He had bought All Bran after having asked what I would like for breakfast, the sweet-pea. I am quite fussy about other people preparing my food for me unless I’m in a restaurant, I just have my very particular ways of doing things exactly the way I like them. E.g. I don’t want pasta and pasta sauce mixed up – I want to help myself to pasta and then add the sauce or whatever with it. Anyway. What I was presented with, where I was half sitting in B’s way-too-soft bed in a cute little cottage near Stansted that morning, was a huge mountain of All Bran (which really is like eating cardboard, but I’m a wholesome Swede and like stuff like that) with a couple of table spoons’ worth of yoghurt on top.
On top?! That’s not where it goes. I good naturedly ate what I could, with my mouth producing extra saliva to compensate. You don’t kick up a fuss when a gorgeous man serves you breakfast in bed. When someone as sexy as B brings you a tonne of All Bran with a drop of yoghurt on top of it (on top!!!!!!), you smile sweetly and eat it like a good girl, damn it, even though the yoghurt on top (ON BLOODY TOP, PEOPLE!) makes about as much sense as putting butter on underneath your slice of toast.
What other incomprehensibe habits does this beautiful man have that make no sense to me? He used to stick an additional sheet in bed. In Anna’s world you have the mattress protector sheet, which needs to be all squishy and soft. On top of that the regular sheet, then pillow cases and a duvet cover. That’s it. That’s normal bed making etiquette. Enter B. He’d make the bed like that, but then he’d have an additional sheet under the duvet. WTF? His view was that then you don’t have to wash the duvet cover. Now, that’s just plain wrong. Plus, you get tangled up in the damn thing. It’s like the British and how they seem to favour blankets instead of duvets and have a sheet folded underneath and over the top – that’s still wrong but makes more sense to me, even though it also provides another reason to never, ever stay in a B&B.
The crazy sheet habit I’ve forced him out of – I will not sleep in a bed made in that inexplicable manner. Sheet, pillow cases and duvet cover. And always sleep naked. Always. That is the Law of Snooze. And you wash your bed sheets frequently. Also the Law of Snooze. B has complied dutifully and gets a gold star. He also gets a gold star for being a human hot water bottle, which was especially great over the past 36 hours when I’ve had a temperature on and off, meaning when I woke up freezing, I made sure I was enveloped in B’s glorious limbs. Ah, those wonderful legs – they’re my favourite thing. And his tushie. And everything else, really. I’m a very lucky girl.
Still not a 100%, feel ever so slightly nauseous as it happens, but that could be something to do with the three mugs of coffee and huge vitamin bomb I’ve already gulped down. Vitamin bombs are basically a pint of water with a Berocca plus a vitamin C effervescent too. It ends up a radio active and very unnatural looking bright red-ish orange and it’s great for hangovers. It’s eased my fever headache somewhat and I’m starting to feel human now, which I definitely didn’t when I rolled out of bed at 5.45 to have coffee with B and iron a couple of shirts before he headed off to a breakfast meeting in town.
- Sort out the synopsis (I imagine this will take about an hour of focus).
- Tidy up Chapter 2 (the first part is flat so I need to rewrite it – the second part is ace though).
- Iron the rest of the shirts (not too many).
- Laundry (huge pile waiting for me to fold it, boring).
- Cleaning (might just have to wait until Tuesday when we get back from our random Sweden trip we’ve booked last minute).
- Lunchtime quickie once B gets back (he’s working from home this afternoon, yippie!)