Apocalypse street

If I were to write a comedy script about a woman who was determined to meditate on a particular day, I might just come up with what has happened to me in the last 24 hours.

I was due to take my dad to a hospital appointment first thing and planned to get up early so that I could sit in silence for 15 minutes. I was staying at my mum’s and she had six guests turning up as part of an Air BnB stay. This meant that on rising at 5.45am I was involved in a flurry of sheet changing and cushion plumping.

I then drove through the rush hour traffic to pick up my dad, took him to an appointment and left at 12.30pm. The plan was to get home by 2pm, meditate and get some work done.

Unfortunately, they found an unexploded WW2 bomb in the grounds of a hotel at the back of my house, which is currently being turned into flats and houses. Roads were cordoned off, hundreds of burly blokes in black showed up, the army circled overhead and every Bobby within a 20 mile radius, congregated in a 400m area around my house.

There was police tape everywhere, fire engines, army trucks, ambulances….it was like a movie set.

We’ve all taken refuge at my sister’s house. She has a headache and is not used to the level of noise our family produces. My son has taken to barking orders and accusing me of ‘breaching safety protocol’ by returning home to pick up some clothes.

I haven’t done any work, meditated for a minute and it looks as if I won’t be returning home before 4pm tomorrow. It’s inconvenient, but in the grand scheme of things, we’re lucky. What must it be like to live somewhere war torn or to be homeless, every day of the week?

I’ve got to produce some copy for an advertorial by noon tomorrow, the kids have got to get to school and we’re miles from their usual bus route. I also have a Skype interview with a potential client and right now, the only clothes I have on me are the wrong side of casual for making an impression. A little bit of divine assistance wouldn’t go amiss right now!

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