Daily Prompt: The Luckiest People

Who was the first person you encountered today? Write about him or her.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us PEOPLE.


The first living thing I encountered in my sleep drunken world was Tabby. Mr. Swiss arose before me, his need for sleep being less than mine, and made his way to the kitchen. The door to the bedroom was opened and Tabby pounced before it shut again, envisaging a restful hour of kneading, imagining that I was her feline mother. She quite enjoys the repetitive movement of her front paws as if I was a piece of dough and accompanies the movement with some purrs and wiping her head on my hand. I do not mind, it is only when she becomes serious and her claws are protruding into the bargain and penetrating the duvet that it is not such fun. At some point she realises that the milk is not flowing and leaves me to my own thing, which is a sleep continuance.

Sometime later I decided to arise. There were things to do: breakfast to be made and my computer to wake from its nocturnal sleep. Through my bleary sleep drunken eyes (returned to the bedroom for my glasses) my path crossed with Mr. Swiss in the kitchen. We did not actually ignore each other, but we both had our quests to fulfil and conversation is not at its most intensive in the morning hours. His was drinking a coffee and I was heating water for my tea. That is always step No. 1. I carefully place the tea bag in the cup (Twinings breakfast tea).

I usually measure my blood sugar when I am sober in the early morning (around eightish) to get a full unspoilt picture of my sugary health. My aim is a little uncertain in the morning when pinning into my finger, but success. I was quite ashamed when I visited the blood doctor this week to show the results of my 1-3 daily blood samples. Unfortunately the book where I enter the result did resemble a battle field with a few red splodges, but he did mention he had seen worse.

In the meanwhile, my youngest feline, Fluffy (he is now 10 years old) had appeared in the kitchen sitting on the floor below the refrigerator and waiting, watching me with longing eyes. There was a morning ritual to be completed. I opened the fridge and took the butter, put a small pat on the floor (we have tiled floors) and a happy Fluffy pounced on the treat. He just loves butter. He is also the only feline I know that would drink a full dish of milk if he got it, but it not being good for felines, he does not get any. He is a diary feline I suppose.

Mr. Swiss had now left the kitchen and was preparing for a Saturday morning tour of the supermarket. He finds there are less people early in the morning. He had an important mission to fulfil. The evening meal was a cheese fondue and every 100% Swiss knows that a cheese fondue should only be prepared with fresh bread, so the remainder from yesterday would not be good enough. He was on his way to select a suitable loaf.

Did he leave to give me freedom to do my thing at home? I was now alone with my cereal and computer in the kitchen, checking through my various web sites (Facebook and WordPress) and munching contentedly at my breakfast which was washed down with my cup of tea, pure, not shaken and without milk or sugar. Yes, I am the James Bond of the breakfast table.

I met another feline after leaving the kitchen. Nera, my big fat feline, had decided to take a walk outside, the birdhouse was filling up with prospective breakfast meat on wings and she did not want to miss anything.

And there we have it. I was alone again with a vacuum cleaner, a mop and cloth: my faithful companions every morning. I could have supplied you with a detailed description of Mr. Swiss early in the morning, and “write about him”, but I do not think it would be the idea of one of my super blogs. I do not think I would even want to write about myself and my condition early in the morning.

Daily Prompt: The Luckiest People

Lucky Pingbacks

  1. Who are you. | Passionate Dreaming
  2. The Luckiest People | The Nameless One
  3. First Encounter: Meeting Abby | Dean’z Worldz
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  5. hungover and fresh with bed head and lingering pillow wrinkles | thoughtsofrkh
  6. Daily Prompt: The Luckiest People | Incidents of a Dysfunctional Spraffer
  7. Who was it? | Phelio a Random Post a Day
  8. The Luckiest People: People | Khana’s Web
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  12. The First Person | 52 Miles per Month
  13. Heat Sense | johnny ojanpera
  14. My Better Half . . . No, Really! | meanderedwanderings
  15. 9: Others | 365 days of defiance
  16. Elected – excluding others? | A Teacher’s Blog
  17. Crafts for girls | A mom’s blog
  18. Morning People… | Haiku By Ku
  19. “The Luckiest People”(?) | Relax
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  24. P E O P L E | the bippity boppity beautiful blog
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  28. People | Foto Challenge
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  30. FriendShip. The Extraordinary Story of One Family. | The Life NomadikThe Life Nomadik
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  56. Define “First” | My Author-itis
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  58. Luckiest people | Making Life an Art
  59. Do they know they’re being blogged about? | djgarcia94
  60. The Story of a Man and a Pizza and a Truck and a Fish and … just read the dang thing, will you? | Journey Taker
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  77. My First Encounter | One Crazy Mom
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  87. DHAltman
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  89. Daily Prompt: People | Artful Homesteader
  90. How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard | Soulsez…

Daily Prompt: Imagine All the People

The next time you’re in a public place — a coffeehouse, a park, a store — observe the people around you. Pick a person, a couple, or a group, and imagine what their lives might be like.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us IMAGINE.

French waiter at coffee bar

The next time I am in a public place will be tomorrow morning when I perform the act of dealing with the week-end shopping in our local supermarket and I definitely will not meet any people that will remain in my memory forever. The next daily prompt will then be forming in the cyberbrain of a WordPress robot, so I will be too late if I wait until tomorrow. I browsed through my photos and discovered this photo. Do I know this person? Does he know me? Will he even remember having an interesting conversation with me whilst I was waiting for my friend to join me at a table in the café? Why did he leave an impression on me?

Before Mr. Swiss reads this unforgettable blog about the visit I made to see my father in England, on my own and seeing a strange unknown person highlighted as a subject of the blog, I better get round to doing some explaining.

Where was I at the time? I was in a book shop in a large shopping centre on the Eastern periphery of London with my friend. After an hour’s shopping it was time for a coffee. We are both book lovers and combined the bookshop with its coffee shop. It looked quite a nice place, situated on one side of the book shelves and sales area, and it was quite empty. The waiter seemed to be without work and he asked me what I would like. I told him two coffees and noticed his English was not accent free.

Now me being me, a golden oldie, biding my time with nothing better to do, I of course asked where his origins were. The answer was Marseille. My answer “vous parlez français?” or something like that meaning “you speak French?”. Of course it was a stupid question to ask someone from Marseille, but you have to start somewhere being nosy like me. He was pleased to hear his mother tongue, being isolated in the country of the non-speaking foreign language people and so the conversation began. As I also knew that the French spoken in Marseille was something completely different to French spoken in other parts of France, having an accent which not everyone understands the conversation had a starting point.

Was he impressed on my knowledge of French? I do not think so, he probably just found a grey-haired lady that knew that France existed, and also Marsille. We spoke of this and that and he was naturally interested to find that I actually lived full time in Switzerland (where they also have French as a language in some parts) and was only on working in England. He told me that he was glad to have a job in England, to practice his English, but would be returning to France some months later. My friend then arrived and found you can never leave me alone for more than five minutes as I very rarely remain alone for more than five minutes. When she arrived, we were speaking sort of 95% French. Yes, I had found a victim to try out my French – poor man.

The result of this meeting with a stranger from across the channel was the photo. I just could not leave him without a souvenir, now could I? We drank our coffee and left with the words adieu meaning goodbye for ever. Au revoir could also have been said, but that means “see you again sometime” which I did not think would be the case. Such are the moments in life when you realise that the shopping excursion had a worthwhile meaning. Now if I was say 30 40 years younger, who knows what the consquences would have been, although at that age my French was not so good.

On the other hand you can never know the truth. Marseille has quite a strong mafia organisation and perhaps the waiter job was just an excuse for dabbling in money laundering from drug sales in England – you remember the film “French Connection” with Gene Hackman? You can never trust anyone these days.

So Mr. Swiss you can stop reading now and I showed you the photo when I arrived home. I still wonder ………..

Daily Prompt: All the People

Pingback People

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  31. Don’t tour the inside of my imagination. It ain’t pretty in there. « RPMAS
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