My head is a busy one. Thoughts whizzing around all the time - about the houses we rent out, the problems, the vacancies that must be filled, the possibly dodgy couple who viewed yesterday; then, how my son is getting on in his exams this morning - has he read the question properly?; our forthcoming trip to Spain - what'll go wrong this time? Will we have an accident? Will we get stopped by the Guardia Civil? Will the 'plane crash?
Then, what about my growing intolerance to white wine? The last chance saloon for alcohol as I don't like anything else - even one glass now leaving me with a headache; a blot on my day. And the middle finger on my left hand seems to be damaged - a repetitive strain injury from too many years of picking up a large skinny latte at Costa while writing with my right hand. A more litigious type would sue.
Then, what's this with that bit of phlegm that just won't clear from my throat? It's been more than a week now. There was something about going to the doctors if a cough lasted too long. Have I got throat cancer? In which case, I'd better edit those books of mine quickly or I'll have no legacy and my life will have had no meaning (she writes, as she peels the sticker off her McDonalds coffee cup - six stickers on a card equals a 'free' regular coffee).
And so the thoughts continue day in, day out, in varying annoying combinations. Plus maybe an irritating song at the same time -'Oh, they built the ship Titanic to sail the ocean blue, and they thought they had a ship that the water would never go through.' Or: 'She's a la-dy, wo,wo, wo, she's a la-dy, talking about the little lady, and the lady is mi-i-ine.' (sung to the dog, usually.)
Christ, if I could clear these thoughts and this noise from my mind, I could have a nice, clean, crisp, empty head. I could then carefully place some positive and interesting thoughts into it; I could maybe have an idea which would change the world. I could think like a world leader.
I bet David Cameron's head doesn't annoy him as much as mine does me. He'll be thinking about Putin (what a bastard he is and how he can contain him) and other world leaders like Obama and Merkel (how to keep them sweet), he'll be thinking of ways to monitor the scheming Chinese. He'll have to think up strategies for dealing with back-stabbing colleagues and how to keep the opposition in its place. His mind will be filled with ploys and strategems.
When he's got time, some of his thoughts will be about his family, his relationship with 'Sam,' his dead child, his Dad. He won't be thinking about that annoying person who never reciprocates when he buys him a pint. He won't care that Sam didn't fold his pyjamas before putting them under his pillow. His mind is reserved for far greater thoughts.
But I do not envy him his big life. As much as I'd like power and influence in this world, I'd be useless as a politician. Once Putin had pissed me off even in a tiny way - like he'd ignored me when I asked him to pass the salmon encroute, I'd refuse to have anything more to do with him. I'd rely on Adrian talking to him. That's my usual method of dealing with people (it's why I've got no friends).
So here I am, in my little life - a life focused on a family of four, plus dog. A life I once thought would be so much bigger.
And not for the first time I ask:
AM I WASTING MY LIFE?
We have some availability for this summer at our two Spanish rentals:
(NB I might slag off living in Spain, but it's a great place for a holiday 
)
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p86636
And:
http://www.homeaway.co.uk/p475271