Some of Tom Hollander's:
Sometimes in this waiting period I try to do three slow sun salutations to stretch myself out, but often I don’t. I brew the first of many coffees. Which mostly involves heating up the stuff in the cafetière left over from the day before. If it’s a slow day I make it in one of those Italian alloy things that students always used to have that involve a lot of assembled parts and washing up. Owing to forces beyond my control, life has not been as busy as it used to be.
After we’ve eaten and my girlfriend has gone to work I look at myself in the mirror and try to see what others see. Examine my bald patch, weigh myself and pull my stomach in. Then let it out. Then pull it in again. If I’m feeling positive I might get dressed at this point and go for my second coffee on the street below. I’ve lived in the same flat for 20 years and one of the rewards for this loyalty is that I know all the shopkeepers and stallholders on the street, for whom I have become like a piece of the old furniture they sell.
Hello Glen, hello Kris, Ghino!, hello Brendan, hello Fati, wave at Ray, turn the corner, bonjour Raschid, ça va? (keep going ’cause I can’t really speak French), hello Hassan, hello Reg, morning Dave, yup still here Tony, hello Beatrice (she doesn’t notice), slide into Porto: “Maya four-ter take away please” (phonetic Portuguese). Then take it home and leave it on the sideboard with any post that has arrived from my stalker.
Then I might call my agent. “Isn’t she? No, no, nothing important… just checking in…”
Soon it’s time for my midmorning nap. Followed by the preparation of lunch, which I start at 12.15pm. And at 1pm I turn on the radio again to listen to World at One and hear politicians lying or reports of the world ending.
Whatever I make for lunch I eat too much of, which makes me feel a bit lethargic, so I make some more coffee and turn off the radio as The Archers starts so I’m ready to begin the second half of the day.
The afternoon is time for hobbies and extracurricular activities. If it’s sunny I might go for a cycle ride down the canal, if it’s raining I might masturbate and doze, or speculate on the extraordinary injustice of Philip Green’s knighthood, or look at that app that tells you which celebrity you most resemble (Tom Hardy). Sometimes I read long-form articles about the collapse of western society and the destruction of the planet.
From about 5pm, assuming I haven’t mislaid my house keys or mobile phone, it’s possible to surf through the rest of the day on the news feed while preparing food, eating it and digesting through Newsnight.
Then it’s time to go to sleep again. Cracking a little sleeping pill in half in case I need it later, I turn on the radio very quietly. If my girlfriend’s there we hold each other in various shapes. If she’s not I put my arms around a pillow.