I lean forward, eyes glued to the TV as I wait to hear words that haven’t been spoken for decades. My hands glide through my cat’s fur as I listen hopefully.
The Eurovision host speaks: “3rd place goes to Germany. 2nd place goes to Norway. And finally, 1st place goes to…”
“Yes!” I shout as the Eurovision host crowns the UK as the victor. My cat darts under the black sofa at the sudden shout.
***
As the sun rises, banishing the night with beams of gold, a steady hum whispers on the roads as I drive my car to Tesco. I park my car in the abandoned car park and march towards the shop, wielding shopping bags and a wallet.
***
During a peaceful drive back, I see hundreds of cars crawling towards the shop. Clearly, the sacrifice of sleep paid off. After pressing a button, I speak “Alexa, message the family group. Say, ‘Would you like to come to mine to celebrate the UK winning Eurovision?'” I pull into the drive and look at my messages: “No thanks, we already have plans” and “Sorry, but I’m still tired from yesterday”.
***
That evening, the scents of picnic eggs, scampi and crisps intertwine to coat the air in a delicious aroma. The sounds of the UK’s victorious Eurovision entry echo through the house as something headbutts my leg. I look down and see a cheeky cat trying to get me to share the feast.
“You’ve already had yours and this is human food,” I whisper as my cat begins shouting at me. Deafening “meow”s fill the air and I give in. “Fine. You can have one piece of scampi.”