|She Should Have Drank The Coffee|
We look like this.
|Now, She Had Her Coffee!|
I've been in Queensland for two and a half years now and I know things operate a little differently here. The birds start singing - you get up. People make arrangements for lunch at 11am! Which of course in the rest of the world is morning coffee time! It's okay, I get it, the sun is blistering through the curtains anyway and who can sleep through that. I've even embraced this local approach and am often sitting at my computer at 6:00 am - by the latest.
|One Of The Local Alarm Clocks|
As avid readers of this blog will be aware I'm prone to flitting around the house at the weekends in my nightie and got caught rotten last week when I had to answer the door in my rinky-dinky slinky number. Looking something like this.
|If It's Ok For Rihanna....|
To be fair, it was well past lunchtime - in any part of the world - when I had to answer the door to my unexpected caller, so it served me right. Taking in to account the early rising nature of the Queensland populace, my new policy is to aim to be dressed (fully!) on weekends by about 9:30am. So I'm still keeping it a little on the Irish side but you know, I'm prepared to make concessions. And so it came to pass, this morning, that I heard the birdies singing, got up, threw on a dressing gown, grabbed a cup of coffee and headed for the computer. An hour and a half passed and I was joined by the kiddies. They became one with the T.V. and I decided to grab another precious hour to work. It's still only 7:30am, so I figure I'm safe enough staying in the dressing gown. I'd just settled back into my chair, when I heard it - that ominous sound - the knock on the door!
This is pretty much how I looked at this stage.
As a sense of deja vu crept over me, I couldn't believe that only a week later the same thing was happening AGAIN! At least this time I wasn't in my sexy seductress garb. However, I have to tell you - the dressing gown isn't one of those, button down, neck to floor numbers you might find your granny swanning around in. Oh no. It's a kimono style affair, in a waffle-type material. The type of dressing gown you wear in a high-end spa, the edges of which are barely held together by a belt. And with my curves...... well you get the picture.
I sat there hoping I'd mis-heard. The neighbor was up, doing some gardening, maybe he was banging on something, I told myself. And then it came again, that unmistakable sound (and one I'm starting to have an adverse reaction to) of a human being's fist connecting with a door. I tugged at the edges of the dressing gown, put my, "it's no big deal" face on and opened the door. Yet again - and I know some of you will think I'm making this up - a workman stood in front of me, telling me he was here about trimming the bushes! Seriously people - I couldn't make this stuff up!
As is customary now, I invited him in so that he could go out on the back deck and eye up the bushes. I swear, I'll hack them down myself at this rate. I moved in such a way as to apply minimal disturbance to the edges of the dressing-gown. That is to say, I tried to walk without moving! Not easy but I believe I pulled it off as much as any human being is ever going to pull that particular feat off. Shane eyed me up - but I'm not sure if this was due to flashes of flesh or my strange motion or the fact that he just realized I was in my dressing-gown at 7:30 in the morning - a true shocker for a baked-in-the-early-morning-sun Queenslander.
I'm sure the word must be getting out now amongst the working men of Brisbane, so I'm afraid I've had to review my policy. I'm taking no chances and so if you come calling by, don't be surprised if you find me looking like this.
:-) The Mad Mammy