The Best Alarm Clock in the World

Some days are better than others. Some days improve the further you are away from them. And some days, like today, are always going to be weird and you know that from the start. Except I didn’t know it from the start. Else I might have just rolled over and ignored the telephone. If I’d been even a little bit perceptive I would have, but I’m not, so I didn’t. A wonderful thing hindsight, if only it would come along a little earlier.

I remember some program on TV in which they use to show a picture of a household object in extreme close up and you had to guess what it was. It was always too close for me and I’d only get it when they started to pull the shot way back. I bet everyone guessed the answer before me. I bet you’d guess the answer before me too. Today was too close for me to tell what sort of day it was at the time and now the camera has pulled back and I can see today in its fullness it hasn’t improved over the time. Although now that I am further away from it I can see the whole day as it really was. A very rare and strange day indeed.

The telephone rang at 9.31 on Sunday morning. I tried to ignore it but the ring was more insistent and inpatient that usual. I don't like phones, in fact I almost have a phobia of them. Unfortunately answering is less of a problem that making calls. Most of my telephone conversations are on someone else agenda and telephone bill. Caller’s privilege. I could still hear the phone demanding attention from under the pillow. So I answered it.

"Thank god you're up"

"I’m not I’m still asleep"

"Yes indeed, now what book should I buy"

"Err, sorry who is this"

"Don't play games with me Brian, it’s not funny. Now I’m all out of Murakami books I’ve read them all. Well those in English translation anyway. I need some one else to read. I’m standing in the fiction section of English Bookshop on Boulevard Adolphe Maxlaan and I need a recommendation from you."

"Haruki Murakami?"

"Yes stupid, Haruki Murakami I've just finished Sputnik Sweetheart, brilliant, I need something for the flight. You've turned me into a book monster I have to be reading something."

"OK whoever you are, it's Sunday it's early and I was, am still in bed"

"Just give me a book to read and I'll let you get back to sleep darling. You're always so grumpy in the mornings"

"What other books do you like apart from Murakami?"

"Brian stop it! You know I didn't like books at all until you gave me The Wind Up Bird Chronicle, now I know its early for you and this line isn’t particularly clear, but please just give some directions here as to something in a Murakami style."

"David Mitchell - Number Nine Dream"

"D-a-v-i-d M-i-t-c-h-e-l-l. Has he written many?"

"Just two I think, Number Nine Dream is Murakami-esque, and Ghostwritten was his first book. I haven't read it but it is supposed to be good"

"Thank you darling. Not so hard was it. Two books won't last long though. So you'll have to start think of some others"

"I'm sorry but who are you?"

"Yes very funny Brian, wearing a bit thin now though. I be home later. Flight gets in about 8. You can pick me up from the airport can't you? I've got to go darling it's a mobile call. I've missed you loads. Can you take the tomorrow off, we could stay in bed all day and I could make it all up to you. I love you. Bye!"

"What!"

"Bye" Click the line went dead.

"Hello! Hello!"

I sat up in the bed propped up by the extra pillow that I never used, except for propping up. What was that all about? Who was she? She knew my name; my telephone number and that I liked Haruki Murakami. God that phone call was better than any alarm clock. I was wide awake now.