BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Agh. Darkness. Cold…so cold. Fffffffffuuuuuggggghhhhhhhh. What’s going on? BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. Oh right, the bloody alarm. Morning. Work. Sleep encrusted eyes. Confusion. Stumble over stuff. Damn stuff. Always in the bloody way. Shower, towel, AGH - too hot. AGH - too cold. Hot, cold, hot, cold. Sud-residue in hair. Who cares? Ok, bra. Knickers. Granny pants – it’s cold outside. Vest. Grey marle jumper. Black leather skirt. Brush – where’s the goddamn hairbrush? Knot, yank, knot, yank…ouchy ouchy ouchy. Handbag packed, car-keys intact, now for the final piece – tights. Time ticking on…gotta miss the traffic. Black tights – zing! Wait. Ripped. Dangdangdang. Another pair – laddered. Grey tights. Shag! Crotchless. Next pair – hole in the toe. Wool ones – they can’t be ripped surely? Nope. Shrunk in the wash, can’t get past my knees. Bloody HEEELLLLLLLLLLL. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Attack ball of knotted tights. Rip, hole, ladder, string. Stand on nail-clippers. FUUGGGGGHHHHHH. Hop hop hop.
Tracksuit bottoms.
