I’m not a morning person. I was an 11am baby and still feel that’s a pretty decent time to go out and face the world. Took me and Mum just four hours on that occasion. Nowadays, the workday alarm still goes at seven – though invariably from there to snooze mode. But for some months now I’ve been groping my way out of the covers fairly soon after the bell to do yoga or qiqong while my happy fellow sleeper dreams on. It’s delicious, the morning quietness and our little flat to myself. Recently, two new elements have encroached on this. I’ve jumped out of bed to read the next chapter of ‘From Here to Eternity’ and, this week and last, ‘Catch 22’. And now, at gone 9am – I’m going to be late – I’m sat here doing the first blog of the day for my unknown audience out there. There’s something about having readers, even occasional ones, that makes you feel responsible. You can’t let them down. Almost a responsibility. And frivolous too. While other people are washing, dressing, feeding their kids and packing them off to school, here I am having an early morning blog.
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