A Morning Indulgence

Anna was right, I wouldn't miss the bells. They tolled loudly and extensively at 6am (or so I thought). They shocked me awake: and kept right on ringing so that I was not tempted to drowse off back to sleep. The Benedictine monks have their morning prayers at 5am and so the bells don't ring for them. Perhaps it is to wake guests, visiting the Abbey, in time for Mass at 6:30.

Attending morning Mass isn't obligatory. Hence I open the curtains to greet the still dark morning, turn on the lamp, prop myself up in bed and reach for my Bible. I read from II Timothy.

Turning off the lamp, I cuddle under the white coverlet and enjoy my private view of the cathedral's illuminated stained glass windows. It is refreshingly quiet. I pray, think and dream. The flush of my neighbour's toilet interrupts my reverie and the stillness of the moment. Life intrudes. And I should step along.

Balneotherapy is as effective under a hot shower as a good soak in the tub. I enjoy the morning indulgence and the liberty to soak a good long while under the stream of water. Bliss: no complaint from the other side of the curtain that I am steaming up hubby's mirror. The water massages my back and I take time for some stretches.

While treating my legs to the indulgence of a lathering of night cream, Anna knocks on my door. My writing group is heading down to breakfast.

It's already 7 o' clock? When did that happen?

My indulgent start to the morning is over. I throw on clothes, comb my wet hair and leave the room in disarray. Life intrudes yet again.