We’ve signed up for the dawn patrol

IT may not be the new year any more, but Small But Fierce of Ipswich and I have come up with a resolution which will improve our lives.

We’re going to get up earlier.

Not, I grant, as exciting as resolving to swim with dolphins this year, or learn Urdu, but its a start.

Trouble is that we are fundamentally idlers, slow starters who don’t surface until absolutely necessary, or more usually a few minutes after that.

This time of year doesn’t help, with spirits as low as the light. Lying buried beneath a duvet of acceptable tog rating is always going to be the more attractive option.


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But from now on we are turning over a new leaf. We will be up at seven, walking the dog by 7.15, breakfasting at eight and planning to take on the world immediately afterwards with vim and indeed with vigour.

We had a trial run this morning. It went quite well. The radio burbled into life at 7am with the hugely irritating Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell, surely enough to drive anyone from their bed. But despite that we resisted bravely until 7.20.

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I was up and dressed by 7.21; SBF some 12 minutes later. A stunned dog was suited and harnessed and out into the misty morn we strode.

I’d like to say that we returned with glowing cheeks, energised and ready for whatever Wednesday had to throw at us, but that would be untrue. We did resist the very real urge to get back into bed and return to our slumbers but it was a close call.

I did put the extra time we garnered before pottering off to work to good use as the bathroom sink needed unblocking, which was a nice way to begin the day’s labours.

SBF used the extra time to do stuff to the portion of her hair that wasn’t down the sink, so all was good.

Mornings have always been a struggle. The intention to rise and shine is there, but the body is weak and reluctant to be dragged into the world.

We’ll see how we get on. I say ‘we’ but I really mean SBF who would lie curled up like a dormouse all day of it was allowed. (I, of course, would rise like the salmon to the fly as soon as the first chinks of rosy dawn breached the curtains, only I’ve got a bit of a stiff back, y’see.)

In the meantime we have some buying to do in the shape of three amber flashing lights and three CB radios. If I remember why, I’ll explain it all next time. Ten-four for a copy, Rubber Duck!

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