So I opened the door in my pyjamas.

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Yes, yes, a funny place to have a door... ba dum tish!

On Saturday morning I woke up at 8.13am, then again sometime later, strangely blurrier and unable to read the clock, after ten. I walked downstairs, put on the kettle for coffee and put a bowl of oats, milk and raisins into the microwave.

Then the doorbell rang, a once rare occurrence in this house. There I was, standing in the kitchen, in my pyjamas, Dolores Keane hair, no dressing gown and no clue who it could be. A hostage in my own kitchen. After a few minutes I gingerly opened the kitchen door, looked out and saw a familiar, but unexpected, silhouette.

I let him in, made more coffee and continued about making and eating my porridge.

Porridge and coffee and some time gone and the doorbell rang again. Seriously!

Bolstered by my earlier experience of opening the door in my pyjamas and wondering who it could possibly be this time I went out and answered the door to... the census guy!

I hadn't put a lot of thought into this. I thought any person ringing the doorbell before noon on a Saturday would either be horrified by my purple fluffy dressing gown and lack of make up, or could be told in no uncertain terms that I didn't have any requirement for whatever they were selling.

So there I stood, in my bare feet, and I started telling him my situation and that of anyone on the street I knew. I couldn't stop myself.

Mr and Mrs Number 3 are up every night till at least 1am, the light's always on at the back of the house. Mr and Mrs Number 9 are lovely, she'll have you in for tea. The end house on the right is rented, I think, her alarm is always going off.

I had become my mother, though less appropriately dressed than she would be.

I grew up on this street, in this area, with these people. I remember doing the census here years ago, taking it oh so very seriously. He was a nice man and this was his first house, on his first day. I wanted to make a good impression, maybe to make up for my attire, but mostly because it's nice to be nice.

Must do that more often, it felt good, I should write it on my hand.

Comments

  1. JayhaitchMarch 15, 2011 at 6:43 PM

    Oddly enough, I bought pyjamas specifically so I could answer the door to people in them. The alternative is rarely appreciated

    ReplyDelete
  2. shinyMarch 18, 2011 at 8:57 PM

    How many people have called to the door since you got the pyjamas? Always think you can jinx these things..

    ReplyDelete

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