Issue 64: Morning routines that won't make you feel bad about yours

Condensation builds on the door, the kettle is calling.

(These were all kindly shared by friends - please feel free to add yours in the comments, I’d love to read them)

I usually wake up at 2am ish then have a long time lying awake, catastrophising before falling back to sleep about an hour before I need to wake up. ​​I splash my face with cold water, put Vit c cream on, then moisturiser and then my contact lenses, and get dressed before my toddler wakes up. As soon as we're downstairs he wants four different things with some urgency: peanut buttery toast; porridge; fruit; yoghurt. I try and deliver his demands whilst making myself a cup of tea which goes cold before I'm halfway through. Half of the time I do the nursery drop, so we keep the nappy change and getting dressed section calm by doing it all in front of Andy's wild adventures on the telly, then I strap him into his pram and walk him to nursery with the dog in tow. I'll get home about 8: 30 am and try and start work straight away, although the cooldown usually takes a little while and I try and have a whole, hot mug of tea to myself.

My alarm goes off at 5.45am most mornings. A decision I make the night before, that come dawn I will be a whole new person and be joining the bright eyed, lean limbed women in athleisure walking down to the Peckham Rye F45 class called ‘Loyals’. However, when my alarm goes off, I feel as if I am being woken from the dead (possibly because I scrolled tiktok till 1am) and I snooze my alarm in 15 minute increments until 7.15am – that’s 6 snoozes. I do this almost every morning.

It is insane.

Then at 7.15am, considering my 7th snooze and working back from the time I absolutely need to be in the office I realise if I don’t get up RIGHT NOW I will literally not make it into work on time. I throw my pyjamas into the corner of the bathroom thinking about how I really must order a laundry basket (as I have thought every day for 5 months), then I’m showered (8mins), changed (10 mins - 5 mins of which are spent wondering why all my clothes look awful), and out the door by 7.45am. The expensive new coffee beans I bought remain untouched, the mug I bought at a pottery studio on a weekend in Margate sits clean in the cupboard, and the dream of coming back from the gym and enjoying a coffee in the sunny spot of my kitchen, unrealised.

I am up at 5am for a first coffee and a fag. Read for about 40 mins. Then go out if it’s light to garden for about an hour. Take my partner a cup of tea and have my breakfast which is a big bowl of muesli then shower and the dog wakes up wanting her walk.

In winter when it’s not light in the morning I finish watching what I fell asleep to the previous night. Sometimes I’ll watch scary things in the morning because I don’t like to do it before bed.

The time I wake up varies, but regardless, the mental battle of whether or not I am going to run begins almost immediately. Mostly I'll lurk, hoping I’ll be brought a cup of tea in bed. The radiator in my bedroom has needed bleeding for near-enough a year, so it is cold, and very hard to get up.

It doesn't seem to matter if I run or not. I am always behind time. I rush around, slightly manically, put Radio 4 on, decide it’s too depressing. Put Six Music on, decide actually often I don’t like the very weird music. Look for an eyebrow pencil, one of two bras I actually like to wear, a diffuser, a laptop charger, the dog lead (but only the one with the comfy handle.)

There is rarely time for breakfast at the table. I’ll cobble together something to take for lunch. Sometimes it’s homemade bread with layers of pickles, and crisps, and excellent cheese from the cheesemongers, with organic leaves and a sprinkle of salt. More often though, it’s very random: along the lines of a packet of oatcakes, an avocado and a Tunnocks wafer. Rush upstairs to brush my teeth, usually in about 30 seconds. If I’m lucky, I take a cup of tea in the car in an enamel mug, along with cereal and yoghurt, annoyed that it tastes minty.

Up early. Check emails to see what has happened at work overnight. Then usually three cups of tea before I go on a run. Back to shower whilst I make boiled eggs on the stove. Eat toast and eggs. Iron some sort of work clothing item quickly on my bed. Scrabble my bag together with a packed lunch and smart shoes. Rush out the door. Get to corner, and if I am tired, which I often am, I usually turn back to check I haven’t left the iron on and the door is locked.

I’ve got one of those alarm clocks that is a light which gets brighter and brighter and is supposed to wake you up naturally. Some birdsong plays but it's very repetitive and quite electronic because it's a pretty budget item. I reach over, tap the top of it to turn it off. Pick up my phone, have a little look at the news, scroll some Instagram. Maybe open Hinge and unpause my profile, have a look at some people that definitely won't have matched with me because I haven't been using it and convince myself that I'm doing something about my single status.

Lean over and look out of the window to see what the real world is looking like. Get out of bed. Go downstairs and let the dog out. Flick the kettle on, and start filling the sink to do the washing up from the dinner that I ate the night before. Let the dog back in and fill her bowl with brown biscuits. Make a cup of tea, which is normally gone quite cold by the time I've done all the washing up. Put some toast down and convince myself I’ll definitely have time to get dressed before it pops up. Run upstairs in an attempt to complete this task.

Start getting dressed and hunt around the clothes dryer for an item I want to wear that has completely vanished. Start brushing my teeth while I contemplate where said item has gone. Remember I was making toast and marmalade doesn’t taste that great after mint. Resolve to eat it right before I leave so mint flavour has had more time to diminish. Put moisturiser on and maybe a spritz of perfume if I feel I need a boost. Return to the kitchen to reheat and eat the forgotten toast.

My morning generally involves me waking up and immediately remembering things I’ve forgotten to order for service the day before, or Kitchen Porters messaging me first thing calling in sick. I always have a fairly weird mini breakfast depending on availability in the work kitchen - probably something like slightly burnt old toast with some slices of cheese on top.

I'm usually suddenly awake around 5.30am - often my hands are numb, or my knee sore - symptoms of a good deep sleep. Recently the local blackbird (resident in a hedgerow opposite the bedroom window) has been the instrument of my awakening. Beautiful. And really grating.

As soon as I use the loo, I'll hear 'ohhhh, what time is it?' from my partner. Words alone cannot encapsulate the tone. Downstairs, I fill the kettle - the dog knows to give me a minute. Outside for a smoke, a moment's thought to decide whether to scroll aimlessly, click on an inflammatory news article, or take a sacred 10 minutes to read my book. Half a smoke ( the time to quit is near) Condensation builds on the door, the kettle is calling.

The quest for the coffee pot. The search for mugs, in the half light. The dog rowsing - the tinkling of the collar as she shakes. She demonstrates an exceptional downward dog. I'm still reading as I put a Lady Grey in a jaunty mug.

Up the stairs with hot tea. Placating the dog - 'I'll be back in a moment, then we'll pop out'. Opening the door - she's opened the curtains but is adamant the day hasn't started yet.

The dog whines, a pitiful 'you've forgotten me' wail. So out we pop, into the new day. The blackbird persists. Down to the sea - the dog slipping on the forbidden sticky mud for her ablutions. Lighting the second half of the smoke, avoiding the beard. A sip of coffee, a glance at the sky. Then the dog returns, back up the tiny slope. Back through the gate, approaching reality.

Good things to click on:

• On the ‘soft life’

• Every scary thing meta knows about you (it starts from the moment your alarm goes off)

• I saw The Breath last month. If you are in a city they’re playing live, please go.

• I may have had to ask for the details of what the lyrics mean, but I can’t stop listening to this

• Is there a sane way to use the internet?
  

An old school friend who lives abroad stayed with me for a funeral last month. The night before we drank beer and talked about teachers and friends and children and lessons. In the morning, we ate toasted focaccia with butter and oranges, and she told me things she regretted from school before she went to buy smart shoes for the service.

The eulogy said that he had always had time for everyone. I wondered if there was anything nicer you could say about someone. 

A few women at the funeral were pregnant. My brand new tiny niece was fresh in my mind. It all seemed impossibly sad and impossibly hopeful. 

I realised as my friend packed, with a strange kind of clarity, that the reason some school friends are a balm, is that they understand your very foundations.

‘Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle. For as the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.'