I got up earlier than usual this morning.
Before you get excited about this, let me assure you it wasn’t that early. Just earlier. For Covid-times. The main problem with getting up late, is that the mornings disappear awfully fast.
But I had a flashback as I contemplated my ‘early’ breakfast and the possibilities this extra hour offered. I used to do this once before.
Get up early. Earlier than I had to, I mean. We’re not counting going to school – although as you will find, I did that – or travelling dreadfully early or having to deal with babies who have a poor understanding of parents wanting to sleep a little bit longer. Ot even letting the builders in.
When I was around 15, I got up earlier and earlier in the mornings, on school days, and not to shower – although I did that – or pack the schoolbag or anything.
I got up to read.
When my evenings grew too short for me to read a few chapters more, I solved this dire state of things by reading before going to school. At first I added maybe a quarter of an hour to my usual morning proceedings. But gradually this got longer and longer. In the end I believe it was an extra hour, which meant getting out of bed at 5.30. Swedish schools start early. I also read in the corridors outside each classroom as I waited to be let in, managing perhaps another five minutes before each lesson. And, erm, reading before the film started in cinemas…
This will be why I managed to get through a fair few books back then.
The somewhat ridiculous situation ended when we moved, and I went to school in the company of Mother-of-Witch in the car, and it suddenly seemed preposterous that I’d crawl out of bed that much earlier.
Since then I’ve been mostly normal. For me. Although I still take a book to the cinema. Used to. In case the film’s no good.