In truth, I was an early riser when I was a child.
During the week it was the usual torture of getting ready for school.
On Saturdays I used to go do the weekly shop with my Dad. Big, out-of-town hypermarket, followed by vegetable shopping at the local greengrocer who would only buy and sell local produce, then to the meat wholesaler who, again, would only buy and sell locally sourced meats. Breakfast at the café – the classic British sort that serves strong, average quality tea, scones and a full English breakfast, that greets you with its white walls and tables, a serving area at the opposite end to the entrance, and spritely ladies who readily call you “Love” or “Dear” as they serve you (not like Starbucks, where you’re asked for your name and they get it wrong anyway). Then back home to put on the kettle, make breakfast for Mum, put the shopping in the fridge-freezer, and do some gardening.
On Sundays it was church with my Mum. I was Christian at the time, through habit, family tradition and not really knowing I had a choice – though I doubt I would have been allowed a choice at the time. Still, I met plenty of lovely people there.
Adolescence was a turning point. I wanted to stay awake until much later and wake up even later. Midnight curfews soon became “Be back before dawn” and weekend mornings became “At least get up in time for lunch”. In terms of mess, this became a big one!
Now, at the surprisingly tiring age of 25, I’m doing both.
Work means I get up at 6am during the week, leave a 7, traverse the city to catch a train and be at work by 8:30 – and do it all again in reverse to return home by 7pm. I’d rather be in bed by 8:30pm but I somehow manage to only get there by 11.
The weekend sees me totally knackered by 11pm, but here’s the good part:
I’m up until 2am with friends and I honestly wouldn’t want it any other way. We’re not the sort who go clubbing, we enjoy films, food, drinks, and most of all, each other’s company. Friends who readily go from serious discussions of “what the hell is going on in the world” to “so, a friend of mine got a Tinder profile and we wanted to help him get laid…” and who don’t pass on another Gin & Tonic.
Yes, this is pretty much what happened last night. G&Ts, excellent home-cooked food, wine, cheesecake, more alcohol…and heading home at 2am.
I was awake again by 9. Ok, so it’s not that early, but our cat wakes me up at 7 some days. I seem to be getting used to it again, and I’ve noticed I don’t make the most of it. I may even make a habit of getting up early again since it seems to be so natural again. I might go for a jog, I could make pancakes, put the kettle on, find small, local shops, find places I never knew I never knew existed (yes, a double “never knew”), see the Sun come up over all the tall buildings, read a book…
Bright Blessings (and fun times),