It is a sunny day, I can see out the bedroom window - can't see the time until I take my watch off the side. 8.45 and then, hold on, a bang at the door.
'There's someone at the door' I say.
She snuggles down in the bed and I am ignored. Another bang on the door.
I go downstairs and she follows me, opening the door there is a lady standing on the step and the mini-bus is turning round, it isn't my day.
'He comes on Wednesday,' she says to the lady on the step.
'Oh dear, I am so sorry.' the lady who I do not know says.
She says, why don't we have some tea and toast but first I must run the cold water and rinse the mugs, put them upside down on the plastic holder and then sort out the jams. There is marmite, peanut butter and jam but no marmalade, oh yes there is, it is in little jars I collected from somewhere or other.
'Shall I make it?' she says. She takes two other mugs out the cupboard and sets them down.
'Can't you see I am doing it just go away and leave me to do it,' I say, banging the kettle down and trying to put it on.
She goes into the sitting room and put the television on and I look in the bread bin to see what there is.
I do breakfast every morning except the day I go to the day centre, then she does it, toast and tea the usual.
Looking out the window I can see the green bags of garden waste and make a note to cut the grass today. It needs cutting most weeks now. I can't remember when I last did it but the grass grows so quickly.
I scrap the burnt bits off the toast and spread butter on it and tell her there is no marmalade.
'There is,' she says coming up behind me, 'there the lemon jar with lemon marmalade.'
Why she doesn't tell me that earlier I don't know, I think she tries to trick me all the time and also the butter is hard and I have put it in the microwave and it is all runny but never mind it will do.
It is only about ten in the morning and while she goes upstairs to do I don't know what I will watch the television with the selling of houses, doing them up, if I can get it on, the tele.