A Day In The Life Of Conrad Barnabus #1

I woke up. There I was, in bed. Again. Morning after morning this had been happening to me just lately. Judging from the amount of sleep I discovered in the corners of my eyes, I guessed the time to be around 8.15am. I looked at the clock, it was 11.54am. Such a lack of synchronization with the world around me was disturbing. Not only that, it was indicative of how my days have been unfolding lately. I'm out of touch. I got up and walked to the bathroom, half-naked and scratching my head, with the distinct feeling that walking to the bathroom at this given time, on this given Sunday morning had become passé. The originality had gone walkabout. My routine seems to lack routine.

I went for a walk. Through the city and down towards the water's edge, giving myself a good airing, I don't want to get stale after all. As I went I watched the seagulls; despite being deeply unpopular amongst us semi-civilised apes, these noisy white aviators have always seemed to me to convey an astonishing degree of confidence. The sort of confidence steeped in arrogance i'd previously only ever noticed in the most unattractive of humans, yet somehow the birds carried it so much better. I think they know something that we don't. Anyway, I walked through the streets, and passed some time noticing the little things. I wanted to memorise the city, to see if I could permanently etch the details, all of them, into my mind, maybe so as to revisit them at will at a later date. The walls, the windows, the significance of the direction of the roads, occasionally even the odd odd person all taken into account. I gazed at the water for an extended moment and then went home. It was time for a think.

...so I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering: if my cat wrote an autobiography, what exactly would he call it? These are the kind of questions which need answers. Surely this isn't very normal, ya know, to think such things. I must find out, I must find out if this is normal. Someone must know. They SAY there's no such thing as normal but there must be someone somewhere who knows. There's got to be SOMEONE. Well there we go, I now believe in the existence of a 'Human Normal Barometer'. The old HNB for short, he definitely needed an abbreviation, good choice my fellow general publics. What happened today? It's Sunday 4.56pm and these are my thoughts. These. Maybe i've had too much tea. Maybe I haven't had enough tea. I do want another cup. But then, on the other side of the mirror, now that i've deduced that i've had either too much tea or not enough tea, I should really stick rather than twist. I'll let the last pot do its caffeine dance and see where it gets me. Except, do I need to maintain my caffeine levels though if this is to be a fair experiment? I don't even have test tubes or a Bunsen burner, I wonder If Tesco sells them. No, no, i'll have one of those tins of mixed fruit instead, I think they have cherries in them, and a cherry can really turn a day around, I'm sure I read that somewhere.

It was an afternoon in the winter of 2009 by the way.