“Your bedroom ceiling just fell down,” Mum says in a tone of great excitement. “There was a crash and debris everywhere and lots of snails and…do you want to have a look?”
“Yes, OK,” I say.
Opening my bedroom door, I gasp in horror: there’s an enormous hole in the ceiling, just above my pillow. Or where my pillow was. The bed has been removed.
“So, it’s a good sign,” Mum says. She seems cheered by this episode. “You’ve escaped an attempt on your life.”
“Or someone is trying very hard to kill me,” I say, gazing up into the rafters. A large amount of ceiling is missing.
“What if the fluffy monster had been on my bed?” I say.
“He doesn’t sleep up that end,” Mum says.
“Presumably the debris got everywhere,” I say. “He could’ve been injured or…”
“He wasn’t,” Mum says. “And nor were you.”
Photo of the devastation attached.
Mood is a bit more elevated than is ideal. Need to rest. Am going to relax at the flat until everything has settled a bit inside my head. Can’t write about it now as thoughts are too scattered to write properly or to focus.
Happy Wednesday everyone!
*1971. By Frederick Forsyth. Became a 1973 film, starring Edward Fox. About the attempted assassination of French President Charles de Gaulle.