What does one normally write in one of these things? Is a blog a diary, or is it a place for posting opinions?
I'm undecided. My life isn't interesting enough to serialise; it's unlikely the Sunday Times will be offering me a five figure sum to hear about my trip to Hillingdon on Thursday.
So what is an average day for Whitefox?
Well, the alarm goes off at 7.30 (it's only a short drive to Hillingdon, should only take 45 minutes) and I wisely decide to press snooze. I haven't had breakfast for about a year now. That's not to say I haven't eaten for a year of course... I do occasionally have a Cadbury's cream egg for breakfast. It's quicker that a boiled egg and bread tastes much better when dipped into the creamy fondant centre.
Just what is a "creamy fondant centre" anyway? Is fondant a derivative of fondue? I have images of some Swiss factory full of Lederhosen wearing moustachiod Swissmen pouring fondued sugar and E234 plus emulsifier into a chocolate eggs whilst yodelling to themselves and occasionally stopping to sip from the barrels hanging around their St Bernard's neck, not that I'm stereotyping of course. Talking of fondue, I had chocolate fondue in Moscow once. In typically Russian fashion, I was provided with pieces of fruit to dip into molten chocolate. After loosening my belt another notch, we finished the meal with some "cannabis vodka". Those crazy Russians! Mind you, when you get frostbite from opening your window you need something to warm your cockles.
I digress. I figure an extra ten minutes in bed is priceless and rarely make it to breakfast. I'm someone who never, ever has a problem getting back to sleep. In fact, I have been known to set my alarm for an extra five minutes sleep in the morning. I don't understand people who say they can't get back to sleep once they're awake:
"Once I'm awake that's it."
"I can't get back to sleep."
"That's not normal."
"6.30 is the best time of the day."
"For sleeping, yes."
Talking of alarms, when I was at university, my alarm once went off for half an hour and I didn't wake up. I only finally awoke when the other students in my halls started hammering on the door to tell me that my alarm was going off. I suppose it wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't 4pm.
Anyway, when the glue from my eyes finally clears I realise with a sense of disappointment that once again my alarm clock is telling the truth and it is actually time to get up. Somehow I hope that the sun had decided to rise about an hour earlier than usual to make me think I had to get up, only to realise I could actually stay in bed. There are in fact only two things better than realising you can stay in bed for another hour: sex and heavy snow.
The next thought to cross my mind involves debating whether or not it is actually Saturday. Sadly this doesn't happen anywhere near often enough. Usually only once a week.
Given that it's currently very cold outside, I don't mind it too much though. I'm weird and actually relish the thought of using my credit card to de-ice the car. Such weather has it's downsides though. Driving along the M4 towards London I'm taken in by just how beatiful the world looks on a very frosty morning with a clear blue sky and white everywhere. However, the M4 heading towards London in morning rush hour is not the place for such day-dreaming and I'm brought back to my senses by a foreign lorry driver who has decided that my car is not actually in the middle lane, so he can just pull out. Fortunately my years of experience have taught me to watch out for such things. That and writing off a car last year.... A Polish lorry driver "merged" into my car on the M25 last year in heavy traffic. He started pushing me across into the fast lane. I'm convinced he wouldn't have noticed me if I hadn't fired a rocket launcher at him. Actually, one part of that tale is not entirely true.
Where was I? Oh yes, by this point just getting onto the M25. On one Friday afternoon I was chugging round very slowly. At one point I was stationary in the fast lane for a couple of minutes having a private Karaoke to Queen's Greatest Hits when I haapened to notice the most beautiful blonde woman in the car behind. I was so taken by her that I was shockled to find that the cars in front had vanished into the distance.
Talking of which, a friend of mine told me he was in the car with his dad one time when they joiend the end of a stationary queue on the motorway. He looked in the rear-view mirror and spotted a car which seemed to be going too fast. As a precaution he pulled over onto the hard shoulder, and the car went past him, straight into the back of the car in front... Not bad!
Anyway, I eventually got to work, went home, drank some Beaujolais Nouveau and went to bed.