This morning I woke up with the Archbishop of Canterbury.
Oh, for goodness’ sake, you know what I mean! He was on the
It’s one of the problems that nobody tells you about when you buy a clock radio. You just never know who you are going to wake up with. Today it
was Justin, tomorrow it could well be a film star, or a politician, or a famous singer past his / her sell-by date. Some days I wake up to the voices of people I used to work with before I retired and became a Jolly Girl with Nothing Better to Do Than Delight
in the Deliciousness of Every Day. Waking to these well-known voices is always unsettling as it means I find myself thinking I am still a Working Gal, with 40 minutes to shower, eat breakfast, prepare a tuna and cucumber sandwich for lunch and steer
the car out of the drive and on its way to Littlehampton. Still, the lovely warm feeling of relief when I realise I can turn over and go back to sleep almost makes up for the rude awakening.
Mr B tends to wake up very, very early in the mornings. Especially when there is cricket on the television. I am quite sure that he goes to bed with a little internal alarm clock telling him whether it’s gloom
or glory for the England Team wherever they happen to be playing – and, unlike me, once he is awake he says he can’t, he simply can’t go back to sleep again. So up he gets and I hum and haw for a bit wondering whether I’d like
him to make me a cup of coffee or not, given the earliness of the hour. He says he will make me one anyway because he doesn’t like to see a grown woman cry - but reckons it will almost certainly sit on the bedside table going cold while I slip
back into my slumbers.
My Daily Dilemma is this: do I turn the radio on or not? If Mr B has Left the Room before 6 a.m. I know that, if I turn on the radio, I
will have the treat of listening to a programme on Radio Five (or Bloke Radio, as I like to call it) all about finance and the City. It’s called “Wake Up With Money” – as if you’d gone to bed the night before and suddenly
woken up with a fortune secreted under your mattress. It’s as good as a lullaby for me; within minutes I’ll be fast asleep again.
Similarly at about
five minutes to eight every weekday morning on Radio Sussex, they have a short contribution called “Weird World.” You will understand that anything about a world that is weird, or wacky, or wonderful, is likely to attract my attention. But
not, unfortunately, for the whole five minutes it takes for three presenters to relate weird stories from around the world and the main presenter to decide which one has been made up and which two are true. I have lost count of the number of times I
have slipped into a snooze before hearing the answer. Quite often I’ll be awake again before the newsreader has finished recounting the News headlines at 8.05 a.m. – but that missing ten minutes is gone forever.
Waking up in the Olden Days, when our Foursome were littl’uns, was a completely different experience – if you would like to read about one particular awakening, just click on the Way We
Were page on the menu to the left. Those were the days when I didn’t need an alarm clock because I had a choir of early risers in the next bedroom, trilling away, at the tops of their voices, telling the world: “When you come to think of
it, waking up is fun!”
It was their favourite song, back in 1975. I wish I could remember the tune but it’s gone right out of my head. Which is strange
when you think how many mornings I woke up to its optimistic refrain. “Open your eyes, what a surprise, morning has begun!”
So it has.
I shall remind myself of this every morning from now on, whoever I wake up with. It might even be Mr B, if there’s no cricket on the television tomorrow morning.