DAY 4: The Three Tenors

It was approximately 3:30am when I woke up with a monstrous headache.  I spent most of the night tossing and turning, despite the fact that I went to bed on an empty stomach.  I was not even tempted (before I turned in for the night) to sample my mother’s bran biscuits with a warm glass of milk – a comforting formula to brave the bitter cold. 

I looked over to my right where my wife lay sound asleep, curdled in her foetal position – looking content.  My stomach, as usual, was playing its part; “Mount Everest” as my son continuously refers to it.  I almost chuckled at the thought that although my wife and I lay in the same room, we appeared to be in different time zones.  I was somewhere high up, surrounded by my snow-capped brothers, while she remained cuddled next to a fireplace on the ground.

And then, the inevitable happened.  My restless night turned out to be an ear-piercing nightmare.  The voices returned.  They were arguing, each one voicing his opinion over the bran biscuits that lay tucked away in the kitchen cupboard.  One of them even suggested that two biscuits combined with a layer of hazelnut chocolate spread, would make my mother’s winning recipe an absolute victory. 

The Three Tenors continued on into the night, as I refused to participate in their unrehearsed drama. I openly admit that I am not an opera aficionado, but their infuriating noise did not sway me to please the hunger pains.  Instead, I opted for a bottle of mineral water (which thankfully was within reach), and began to concoct my own tune.  I’ve realised that the game is far from over, but if they think their song has any merit, I’m afraid they’re barking up the wrong tree.

My wife greeted me this morning with her normal ritual of allergy coughs and sniffs.  It appears that her night too was also a restless one.  Although I had the perception that my sleeping beauty was lost in her own fairytale, she complained that her evening was governed by a loud resonating bark (could she also hear the voices?).  It’s the second time this week that our neighbour has mistakenly locked her dog outside.  I’m planning to speak to her about it as soon as I get home from work.  “One more strike, dear neighbour, or you will be greeted by a pile of ‘Lost Doggy’ posters.” 
“Perhaps I should look into an Anger Management course at my local community centre.  What do you think?”

As for tonight, I have my own plan of action.  My wife has informed me that the bran biscuits are no longer – she consumed them for breakfast.  After I savour my evening meal of grilled chicken, tomato and mozzarella salad, I will resort to the bedroom to meet 'the singing trio'.  “Get ready to hear my version of La Donna e Mobile boys…”

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com