My Morning ritual

This is my morning ritual what is yours?

The bedroom is usually dark with the first hint of light appearing when I look out of the window at most times of the year. On the pillows over my head sleep my white haired Westie dog, and next to me my wife gently snores buried in several layers of duvet. I usually know what day of the week it is by how many clothes I fall over on the way to the bedroom door to get and put on my Joseph bath wrap.

Out of the bedroom it’s down to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Filling it with water usually means having to fight the sink monsters piles of plates and saucepans to get to the tap. It must be as no one in the house ever remembers cooking or eating from plates. We have a cream steam whistle kettle with various burns and cracks from when I haven’t put the kettle whistle on. I can fill it with enough water so by the time it whistles I have shaved, and showered etc

To shower I have to fight to put the rubber hose to the sink taps- the real shower broke over 18 months ago and well it takes time to sort. And then try and find all my shaving equipment, towels etc as they are scattered around three rooms- attempts to keep in one place is akin to bringing about world peace.

When the whistle blows, a pint mug of red bush tea is made with Soya milk and a mug of tea with cow’s milk. It taken up to still sleeping wife and dog and placed with the other half drunken mugs- but I like cold tea I get told if I say why do you want tea at 4 or 5 or 6 in the morning?

Then the real purpose of getting up early happens. I can get into my study before I have to leave for a meeting in anywhere in the South West of England or London and put on my little oil heater and a library type side lamp. So sit in a little circle of light and warmth, fire up the laptop and put on Lastfm.com and choose an artist of the day at random. Earphones on, feet on desk(once spaced cleared) and book opened for a few snatched moments of bliss as I live the lives of others and escape from the day’s burdens until the time comes to bolt from the house and catch trains, attend meetings and make the world work in my small corner of it.

But tomorrow when the first hint of light can be seen from my window, I can come back-life's too short to be tidy