Imagine this if you will.

You wake up, yawn, scratch (something) and greet the day. Today is Monday. But imagine this is your last Monday. No more Mondays. You are doing your no mores. Because it all ends on Friday. Whoosh. Curtains. Final call. You’ve got your marching orders. Lights out. Put the cat out.

What would you do? With those last few days, if anything was possible, money was no object and for arguments sake it didn’t take 24 hours to fly to Australia. (what a waste of a day) I know what I would do.

First I would eat dessert.

I think I have left myself severely deprived and deeply unsatisfied in the dessert department of life. This is partly because of the ever expanding size of my backside. It’s never been small even when I was my smallest, so adding dessert into the equation just seemed glaringly reckless. I think the biggest reason for this dessert deprivation has been because I am basically too much of a greedy oink when it comes to the savoury stuff of life. Pizza, pasta, steaks, roasts, sandwiches, chips etc are so much more my thing. So essentially there’s never any room left for the gooey deliciousness of a tirimasu or a sticky toffee coma. My greatest dessert weakness would be peanut butter cup ice cream. It is sweet perfection. I can often be found with a spoon in a jar of peanut butter for my sugar kick during the afternoon. So I would hunt down every dessert containing peanuts, being careful not to kiss anyone who is allergic, unless they are doing their no mores aswell, in which case they might not mind. I would eat dessert first and drink milk shakes, I’d buy pick n mix and shove 20 Malteesers in my mouth, maybe 25. I’d have banoffee pie for breakfast and lemon meringue pie for supper…I would send mail order cup cakes to all my friends, I would throw a custard pie at myself. I actually really want some dessert now I’m thinking about it. Damn you blog. You’re taking over my life.

Next I would wear all my clothes. You know the ones you save for a special occasion. The clothes you bought on a good day because you loved them, but never had the nerve to wear. The shoes you thought looked sexy in the shop, but you went shy when you got home. The sleeveless things you love but you don’t wear because you no longer like your bat wing bingo wing arms. Well to hell with that. Arms out, that’s an order.The trousers that reveal a bit of back roll…well roll on here and get your zipper down. I’d get dressed in the dark to see what outfits I could conjure up. I’d dress for fancy dress and wear wigs. I’ve always said I’d wear wigs because it’s cheaper than getting your hair re styled and coloured, and having to grow it only to get it cut off again. I’d be a platinum blonde on Tuesday, a redhead on Wednesday and an afro on Thursday. Or what the hell, why not shave it all off just to see how that feels. Chilly probably. I’d wear red lipstick because I’ve never dared to. I’d wear fish net stockings, hats and fake fur coats. My last week would be a technicolored shocking feast for the eyes.

Next I would cry.

Not just because of the impending ending at the end of the week. I would cry for the person I used to be and wish that I could have given my younger self some good advice. I’d cry for the wasted time feeling inadequate, self conscious and hating my body. Time spent that could have been better invested in bringing happiness to other people aswell as myself. I would cry because I’m so grateful for all the great things I have been blessed with. All my family and friends, one, two and four legged. Those chance meetings, surprise messages I replied to, the opportunities and the chances I took that brought me priceless joy and worldwide experiences. I would cry because of the unfinished business that would stay unfinished. The charity pile I never took, the ironing I never did, the cakes I never baked. The people I should have seen more and the things I should have said. I would cry because I still never saw the beauty of the Taj Mahal at sunrise or dived in the Great Barrier Reef. I’d cry because I never danced or sang when I could have. There are tears of thanks and tears of regret. I wonder which of my puddles would be bigger.

Then I’d dry my puffy eyes and blow my snotty nose, and I would share the time I have.

For a long time I have said the greatest gift you can give someone is your time. This became a mantra for Hagred and Cherub as they were growing up. So they have grown into adults who give that gift of being together at birthdays and Christmas, and doing things together. This makes me very proud. So I would spend extra time with the people I often pass by. I would stop to chat and laugh with the Polish guy selling the Big Issue. I would buy two copies and then I’d go and sit with the lady sleeping on the street corner. Take her a cup of tea, two sugars and a chicken sandwich. I always say hello but today we will sit and talk together. She would laugh at me in my blonde wig and green summer dress which I pulled out of my wardrobe, eyes shut, I’d give her the jacket I always loved but never wore. She’d put it on straight away because she doesn’t care what people think about her. I’d go and visit the neighbours who always wave but I’ve never met. One is alone and I’d wish I’d visited her sooner. We’d talk about her lost husband and the daughter she doesn’t talk to. She’d love my ginger wig and ask to try it on. She’d even like my fishnets and cowboy boots. I’d convince her that dessert comes first and we’d eat profiteroles all afternoon. After all aren’t strangers just friends we haven’t met yet.

But why wait for some monumental catastrophe to happen. Isn’t it a ridiculous idea that all these simple things should be put on hold pending some impending doom. The simple answer is of course that they don’t have to be. Why wait all week just for Friday when Wednesday is a good day for a great day. You were born to be real not to be perfect.

Of course there are other things I would do as well if time was running out quickly, but dessert is a good place to start.

Much love