It started with Fjaroabyaggo

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to meet another blogger? One you didn’t already know outside the blogging world. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if that blogger also wrote one of your favourite blogs, a blog that made you laugh out loud or gasp in horror? There are few blogs I love more than Sean Smithson’s. I love seeing that there’s another post there to read. And every time that little email notification comes through telling me “Sean Smithson” has liked one of my posts, I silently high-five myself and think, “Yes, Laura, today’s post was good.”

My blog, edgy as I like to imagine it is, has got nothing on Sean’s, which, by the way, is not his name. I’ll get onto that. Sean’s blog leaves mine in the dust. He gets stuck straight in, in a way that is almost-brave/almost-stupid. A fine example comes from his ‘How to stay single in your 30s’ post: “If you find that ladies are just drawn to you or that your friends absolutely insist on trying to set you up, then try the following – Be a mildly obnoxious asshole on dates. You need to get the balance just right so that she’ll sleep with you but won’t want you to call her ever again.”

Honesty is definitely the best policy in Sean’s world. O yeh, so that’s totally not his name. But it’s close enough and easier to work out how to pronounce. It was certainly a new experience to be quite far into a conversation and have someone say, “O, by the way, wanna know my real name?”

I forget what was written about Fjaroabyaggo to prompt the joke that there was going to be a trip there but that is how it started. It somehow grew from that into a fully breathing, walking, talking person at the tube station. He didn’t look slightly loser-ish or studenty. He wasn’t clutching a crumpled balance sheet or accompanied by a hooker.

He was tall-ish, well-dressed and well-spoken. He was also courteous and eloquent, quite a surprise after the Sean of the blog. It’s not like I was expecting a total knob end but, you know, something a little more rough around the edges. The thing is, he is also the person in the blog, the person who lands himself in these brilliant/stupid situations. It’s not something you’d realise unless you knew the blog. And it’s kinda fun once you have realised it and he mentions calling hookers to come over to his parents’ house while they’re in bed.

What’s not to love?

The reason for this post is taking me forever to get to. I guess because I’m trying to make you realise how brilliant this man is so that by the time I get to my point, you’ll already like him.

Well, he’s writing a book. Could there be anything better than a good writer with no inhibitions telling you about all the most ridiculous situations he’s been in? A quick peek inside the book is going to look something like this email conversation we recently had:

Sean: “It’s going to be a book of short stories. That way, they can read about the time I was with a hooker on my mum’s living room floor while she slept upstairs on Tuesday’s tube journey. And perhaps on Thursday, they could read about the time I shit my pants before a date…”

Laura: “I would love to read about the time you shit your pants before a date. What’s the general gist of that story?”

Sean : “Just that I was on my way to a date and shit myself whilst trying to fart. Obviously things got a lot worse during the course of that day.”

Need I say anything more?

This book of utter fabulousness (that’s a word) will be out in January. Good job there’s Christmas inbetween to keep me entertained during the wait. And don’t you worry, I’ll do the remembering for you and keep reminding you about it 🙂

400!

Good morning everyone. Today is quite a significant day in my blogging career. It’s half way to 800. It’s two times 200. It’s one more than 399 and one less than 401. Not guessed it yet? Well, let me tell you.

It’s my 400th post today!

Now you’re either thinking one of two things about this fact.

1. Wow, that’s impressive. What a lot of interesting things she has to say.

2. Omygoodness, that’s a lot of nonsense.

To mark the occasion, I debated a few different possibilities. The favourite amongst my friends was to stuff 400 mini marshmallows in my mouth and photograph it. As I am sadly lacking in mini marshmallows and the shops open late on Sundays, I shall have to shelf that idea until it’s time for another significant post, 500 maybe?

The next idea was do something with 400 of my worms, I’m not sure what. Put them on a plate and photograph them maybe? But as the worms have only just been put in their new home (a proper worm bin as opposed to their previous home, a saucepan) and they were very naughty before then, I feel they need a bit longer on the naughty step before being allowed to join in the blogging fun. Honestly, it’s like having hundreds of naughty little schoolchildren. I’m like a babysitter. The other night I came home from an evening out and they had escaped and were everywhere – the kitchen floor, the outside toilet, the garden, some were even hiding inside the mop. Naughty worms.

I thought about climbing 400 steps but I’m quite comfy here on the sofa.

I thought about drinking 400 cups of tea but I’ve heard that you can drown yourself if you drink more than 26 in a day.

I thought about reading a page from 400 different books but it’s my first day at Ham House today so time is limited.

So I thought I’d refashion a post I did ages ago, called Things I Have Learned. For the following to make sense, you’re best reading the original first. And, if I’m clever, I’ll make it exactly 400 words. Look, it’s Sunday morning and it’s the best I can offer. Get over it.

Here goes…

1. My post is never as big as I think it is (or rather, ‘hope’ as I look longingly at other blogs and their posts filled with wisdom and then at my little silly ones about Taylor Swift).

2. Most people are a little bit bored by blogs about how to blog. As a new blogger, I lapped them up. Now I’m not really so keen. I don’t get anything about the blogger in these ‘advice’ blogs.

3. People like to shorten words (e.g. ‘NaNoWriMo’ or ‘NaBloPoMo’ or ‘NeeNorNeeNor’)

4. Missing a typo is horrible. Especially if the typo is talking about someone you did yesterday instead of something.

5. Writing a post that people notice is a fine art.

6. Most bloggers thrive off the drama in their lives. Cause then they can blog it.

7. Blogging makes you feel better.

8. Sometimes, blogging all your problems is the worst thing you can do.

9. Making your own chicken stock is more trouble than it’s worth. (No, I know this doesn’t relate to blogging but it’s still a fact.)

10. If you can’t make it good, don’t post it. Save it til later and sort it out then.

O! And one more…

11. Denying the existence of a rubbish post doesn’t mean it’s not there.

Umm. It’s not 400 words. It’s way more. O well. Shoot me.

Interview with a Danda

See what I did there? Interview with a vampire, interview with a Danda… Here are a few basic facts about your favourite Danda before we get started.

1. He likes ice cream.
2. He drives a taxi.

Hello, Danda. How are you feeling on this fine Sunday morning?
Yeh. Alright.

Rumour has it that you recently watched The Sweeney starring Ray Winstone. Was it your opinion of this film?
Unprintable.

What is the silliest thing anyone has ever asked you in your taxi?
I was driving under the Picadilly underpass with some Americans in the back and one of them said to me, “Is this the tunnel where Princess Di was killed?”

Regale us with a story from yesterday’s taxiing.
One of our local colourful characters, Jeannie, was spotted walking down the middle of the road waving her hands at cars to try and stop them. She was walking all shuffly because her knickers had fallen down around her ankles. I did not stop for her, unfortunately.

How do you feel about Laura’s new project in which she aims to live more responsibly?
So far, the cooking’s good.

What is your favourite book in the world?
Well, the books that I can read and re read and still enjoy almost as much as the first time I read them, are the Flashman books.

Would you say you have become “reliant” on tea, much as one would on drugs?
Yes.

What is your favourite thing Laura has cooked?
Oo, so many to choose from. Er. Thai chicken curry.

Why won’t you let Laura have a chicken in the garden?
Cause I’m mean.

What is your opinion of Laura’s blog and is it your favourite blog in the world?
Laura does a blog?!

How do you feel about breakfast?
Don’t eat breakfast.

And now, the question that stumped Gordon Brown in the incident now known as BiscuitGate…. What is your favourite biscuit?
Chocolate digestives. No problem with that one.

…Cor, is that it, Laura? Not exactly Jeremy Paxman, are you? There was no really hard questions at all was there.

And that, my friends is the end of this interview with Danda. I feel we can all learn something from the things we’ve read here.

Some of my friends have blogs too

Yes, my real life friends. Friends I knew outside of my blogging life. They have now started blogging and entered my blogging world. Which is a bit nerve wracking as I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever written about them….! Anyway, they are lovely people with lovely blogs. Check them out…

Ex-colleague and fellow cake-lover, Abbi, at blogthehousedown.com:

“I’ve been counting the calories and even hired a personal trainer. Yesterday was my first session with her.
‘Ah this will be easy,’ I thought, “I’m not in that bad shape.”
Well, I was wrong. Today I woke up and muscles hurt that I didn’t even know existed!…
After hobbling around the bedroom for most of the morning I decided to do something productive that required minimal moving, and so I decided to try out a recipe I found for courgette muffins…
So off I hobbled to the kitchen to embark on my healthy bake…I grated courgette, I measured the skimmed milk, mixed everything together and the little things came out looking pretty good…”

Beware, though, the tasty looking courgette muffins. Pop over to her blog to find out what happens when she tastes these babies!

Next is a friend I’ve known for years through a legal charity we’ve both been involved with at different points. This blog is brand new and full of all the things I spend time thinking about too.

“More 20somethings need to talk about the fact that this can be a terrible decade, discuss why, and throw out some life rafts of useful hope so that we may all survive until our 30s come to the rescue.

The article above – while acknowledging some of the problems of being in your twenties – is a classic example of The Great 20s Myth. This is the myth that your 20s are the best years of your life. Never, we are told, will you be more beautiful, thinner, look better, have more of a wonderful time, have more sex, have more great sex, and meet more wonderful people.

Waldman’s piece is, of course, just one of many things floating around about being in your twenties at the moment. You needn’t read all of the article, just look at the photograph and you’ll see what I’m talking about. It is the doorway to the deception that your 20s are one long sun-drenched, hazy day full of sexy and formative ‘fun’. A group of beautiful, tanned, bambi-limbed friends jumping in the air fuelled, presumably, just by the sheer joy of being alive. They are having the time of their life – of course they are! They’re in their twenties!

No.”

Another blog I enjoy reading is that of two friends that I worked with once upon a time. After we no longer worked together, we remained friends and they recently jetted off for a life under the Colombian sun. Not before a trek across Spain though, stories from which are to be found on the blog. This extract is from a wonderful post about a visit to Anthony’s uncle:

“We walked on further, trudging through the mud. Up in the mountains of San Juan de Rioseca it rains a lot.

‘Look over there,’ he said. ‘That’s the Rio Magdalena.’ The sun caught it at a bend, sending a brilliant flare of light from Colombia’s mighty river to my iris.

We continued walking through the cloud forest, flanked by jungle, toward my uncle Julio’s farm. On the way we passed a tiny, tidy construction site and met Viktor. He was wearing a broad-brimmed hat, wellington boots and a shirt and jeans dirty from the jungle path. A machete hung from his waist. He greeted us with a broad smile. After explaining the plan of the house he walked with us futher into the jungle.

Eventually we arrived at a small house, built by my uncle Gildo and members of the local community 15 years ago. It was there that we met Julio, my unbelievably fit and healthy seventy-nine-year-old uncle, his wife Rosa and perhaps the happiest person I have ever met: my cousin Feniz, who is married to Viktor.”

Next up is an old uni friend, the one we used to call Mum because she took care of us. Her blog is typically her – fashion-conscious and ready to offer food! Check out this snippet from one of her recent posts (I shall need to sort my legs out soon…):

“Now onto some fashion. I am glad that Spring is on it’s way (so they say). With it’s arrival will come some pretty colours and fabrics and less of these harsh, masculine lines we always tend to lean towards in winter.

Ladies! Be proud, be feminine and embrace the fact that the sun is coming out. Only problem is, we will have to up our game with regards to defuzzing our legs…winter hair can be excused, spring hair can NOT! Haha

Enjoy wearing the pastels and bright colours, experiment with layering different fabrics and textures, find a feminine look that suits your personality, I do believe that this look is not just for the “girly girl”.”

Next up, a friend with whom I share a love of honey, funny how little things can get you chatting. He has flown to greener pastures now (East London) but writes fabulously and I can fully recommend his blog. Check it out:

“The first wave of the spring’s sun had come and gone, transforming the landscape into a bleak and seemingly barren prospect as it left. The pull of the river was strong and I was faced with a choice of another day stuck inside grey walls freezing or be under grey skies freezing. A stiff cup of freshly brewed coffee gave me the push I needed. Thirty minutes later I was standing, rather being blown about, outside the Royal Festival Hall. Rain was tickling my face, annoyingly. My mood was being coaxed into better spirits by the wind. The mood was doing it’s best to ignore it. I made my way along the Thames path towards the gate that leads to the steps to the beach by Waterloo Bridge.”

Lastly, a friend who has recently returned to his home country, Ghana. He’s Ghanaian. And he’s Lebanese. And he’s been living in the UK since forever. But… Wait a minute… He’s…. No…

His blog is partly about this identity crisis. Here’s a taster:

“My family decided to take a trip to spend quality time together. We picked a little eco resort close to the Ivory Coast boarder of Ghana next to a town called Axim; I joined them a day after they left by taking a 20 minute internal flight to Takoradi where I was picked up by my brothers.

Upon arrival, I made the short 5 meter walk from the plane to pick up my bag and exit the airport. I flashed my ID to the immigration officer and he waved me through. ”Wait. Stop!” Someone yelled from the back of the office. Here we go.

“Where are you from?”. It took a while for me to realise, amongst all the eyes staring at me, who was speaking to me. It was the head of immigration. “Ghana”, I responded irritatingly. My usual spiel was useless. Everything I said to him was thrown back at me. I am not black and he has never heard of a Ghanaian person with the surname “Mouganie”.”

Welcome to the party!

Yes! Yes, everyone! It’s my blog’s first birthday! I bet you’ve all been hiding behind furniture waiting for my blog and I to come home from work so you could jump out and yell “SURPRIIIISE!”

Well, thank you. Thank you from both of us. Blog is doing well, learning to walk unassisted and eat with cutlery, all the usual stuff a one year old does. Still a little messy and un-spell-checked if I write whilst sleepy but, yes, well. Hard to remember when she was small and new born. We are both well. Thank you for coming to the party.

We welcome you to our humble abode, here in cyberspace. Do you like how I got the place ready for the party? O, the balloons? All five hundred of them? Yes, I blew them up myself. I am Supermum. No, I didn’t let little Blog help me. Blog was busy sticking down pictures of the sky and playing with food.

All these exquisite little snacks which look like they were made by a gourmet chef? O, you flatter me! Yes, it was me. I made them. And the petits fours and lovely mini tarte au citron? Yes, those are mine too. Har har. I just knocked them up in ten minutes. It was nothing, really.

My dress? Yes, it’s one of Viv’s. I mean Vivienne Westwood, of course. I call her Viv. She loves me calling her that. It’s like a little private joke.  And the bag is Dolce & Gabbana obviously. I know, haha. I look great, don’t I?! And I just came from work like this. I’m dressed down if anything!

What’s that you say? This is the best party you’ve ever been too? Really?! Well, yes, that is understandable. Fab. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.

O, Blog? Where’s little Blog? I dunno. In a corner somewhere. It’s all about me, really, isn’t it?

O, is it not? Is it really about little Blog? Ok, little Blog. You take the limelight. You would like to give a little speech? But all you do is talk, don’t you want to give it a rest? Ok, go on then. Do your bloody speech then.

Blog: *clears throat* Hello, everybody! Thank you all for coming! Thank you for supporting me over this past year. I’d like to say things like, “It’s been hard and I almost gave up and thanks for keeping me going” but in actual fact, I’ve never almost-given-up. It’s just been loads of fun. I’ve never made numbers a priority. I’ve always just spoken my mind and talked about things I wanted to. It’s a nice compliment, however, when you see that people click ‘Like’ every so often, or even make a comment. Oo, the commenting. What lovely fun. I’ve made what I’d consider real friends via that little box underneath the posts that encourages people to share their thoughts! Ah, how lovely. And now, everybody, dig in! Grab a canape! Have a glass of bubbly!

HAPPY 1ST BIRTHDAY ME!

Search terms 5

There’s been quite a bit of underwear-related traffic coming to my blog recently so I figured it was time to do a post about it. I’d also like to know where to get me a roll of this wrapping paper that someone has come to my blog looking for……

backstreet boys wrapping paper
person getting excited
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picture red wine mess
lucille ball
famous public apostrophe mistakes
rowley lane dance mat
christmas knickers
aslan’s mountain
things to remember in swimming
truffle butter london
salt museum, eua
how do i withdraw from my first charity race
thai kitchen green curry
butcher three bird roast
james bond moment
saltpetre/petremen
mustapha mond atatürk
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sometimes i dont want to finish a book
repeating things twice
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evil flab man
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ant and dec underwear
the girl said to me
chat magazine handy tips
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hate kingston university
boobs on the louse
“totes behind the times” meaning
getting in the car after passing you
how to make walnut paste “without walnuts”
one direction sunglasses
do you see the mistake
caribbean bagel tooting
sellafield paper undies
history of gomshall king john house
waitrose three bird roast
dont want to finish stories

Search terms 4

It’s been a while and yesterday I saw ‘evil flab man’ come up so I knew it was time for one of these. I also really love that famous poet Cloreidge, he was good, hey?

is revising in pyjamas ok
du cane court mummified baby
first hot yoga class
i’ve lost my passport and i am unable to travel
wet myself in ballet class
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“alex jones” “truffles”
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picture red wine mess
rowley lane dance mat
danda
dont want to finish stories
coubotin tv
lucille ball
june bride pig
truffle butter london
famous public apostrophe mistakes
how to make dolls out of eggshells
when do kingston call for pgce interview
thai kitchen green curry
chan man sin v ag of hk
unlawful act manslaughter revision
things to know about first outing on holiday
things to remember in swimming
salt museum, eua
new weaver hall built in 1960s at the bridge
academy awards donald duck
james bond moment
aslan’s mountain
butcher three bird roast
how do i withdraw from my first challenge
lazylauramaisey
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highgate jb priestley
evil flab man
the flask cloreidge
the girl said to me
goji berries muffins
ode to my tooth

Nanny Rhino and the law of tea

Yes, that’s right. I’m fobbing you off with something from my Nanny Rhino, rather than writing a proper blog for you. Again. Apologies. I have been busy (for ‘busy,’ read: lazy).

 

Tea. What a wonderful wonderful beverage. Not much beats a tea. As a non-drinker (of the alcoholic variety, I of course, do drink other things), tea is as wacky as it gets in my world. Well, apart from when I occasionally drink coffee.

 

I do get quite wacky with my tea sometimes. When I first moved to university and happened to have a peppermint tea at someone’s house, a whole new world opened up in front of me. And it was very exciting indeed. I used to have a small travel kettle in my room which just brewed enough for one cup. I also had a rubbishy student job at a coffee place inside a train station. They would open at the crack of dawn to get the early commuters and close late at night to get the drunken husbands desperately trying to sober up with espressos before returning home to their wives.

 

I was often on the early shifts, which meant arriving at 5.30am. Whether cycling or taking the bus, I needed to leave myself about twenty minutes. So my alarm would go off at 4.15am and I would grumpily throw back the duvet and force myself over to the desk to put the kettle on. A mug with a tea bag would be waiting, having been placed there the night before. The kettle would boil, the water would go in and while it brewed, I would gripe about early starts and it surely being against the Human Rights Act and I could possibly sue my employers. Then the tea would finish brewing, I’d ditch the bag and, depending on which tea it was, I’d add milk and have a sip.

 

Things slowly seemed kind of nice then. I could hear the birds singing and see the sun rising. I would put in headphones and listen to I Don’t Know Why by Norah Jones (always the same song, because of the line “I waited till I saw the sun.”) and write. I was doing a joint honours degree and one of my subjects was Creative Writing. The lecturers had advised us to write for twenty minutes every morning. I realised what I always realise at that time of day, when my grumpiness has slid off and down under the floorboards some place and all the nice things about being awake in an empty world while everyone else sleeps become obvious. There’s just me. Me and my cup of tea. My day feels nicer when I start it that way.

 

Yesterday morning, for example, even though I didn’t have time to have tea at home, I managed an earl grey and a scone in between all the breakfast and coffee orders at work. It helped.

 

I have been known to branch out quite spectacularly when making tea. I went for milk-less tea for a long time, which led to forays into the world of fresh mint tea (plucked from my own garden), cardamom concoctions and licorice infusions. When living abroad in Namibia, my friend, Lucy, and I, in our poverty, drank a lot of rooibos tea, to keep our tummies full! It was dirt cheap for a box of fifty and every evening, we would stand at our window in our kitchen and watch the sun set over the water. We were living on the coast, our little house looking out over the Atlantic ocean, and got the most beautiful skies I have ever seen in my life. Colours I didn’t think belonged in a sky – greys, oranges, pinks, reds, blues, purples. Rooibos tea will always mean beautiful African sunsets to me.

 

Careless brewers, who throw the bag in walk away from it, then return later in the day to add milk, should be publicly reprimanded for killing tea. Teabag squeezers also need the same level of punishment.

 

Don’t just leave it there for ten minutes! It shows you don’t care. It comes out like black coffee and is far too bitter. And don’t go the opposite direction and try to brew it too quickly by taking a teaspoon and squeezing your bag against the side of the cup! What’s wrong with you? You’re suffocating it. Let it brew gently. Unless you have so little respect for yourself that you don’t mind drinking tannin, then please do not squeeze. 

E is for…

EVERY DAY!

These are the things I do every day.

Drink tea x 10000
Yoga
Blog
Bake
Food shop
Walk
Watch TV
Check phone x 10000
Think about how soon my exams are
Look at my pile of textbooks (I don’t mean, looking at the words on the page, I mean looking at the pile, then looking away again)

‘Baking every day?’ you might say. ‘EVERY day?’ Well, yes. I find a way, don’t you worry. Things always need making. Last week I made (are you ready?) banana bread x 2, raspberry marshmallows, plum jam, baklava, an Easter egg, fruity nutty snack bars, vanilla and goji berry muffins x 4, two loaves of bread (one I turned into breadcrumbs) and then all the stuff I ate for my normal meals. I don’t usually eat any of the cakey stuff I make so that’s not my actual calorie intake, in case you’re thinking I must be really hungry all the time!

I like to feed people. I’m definitely a feeder. I like to give people things I’ve made but then there’s the nervousness in case they don’t like it but they’re too polite to say. So there’s the worry and the ‘Is it ok? Are you sure? Is it tasty? It’s ok if it’s not. Did I overcook it? Undercook it? Are there too many nuts in it? Not enough nuts? Are you sure it’s tasty?’

Linked in with that is food shopping. Yes I do that thing everyone does, a big massive shop every few days or every week or something, so why do I need to go every day? Because I like it! I like going through the slidey doors and the cool air welcomes you in and you just walk around, amongst all the food, and feel nice. I wander up and down the jam section, getting ideas for new flavours to experiment with. I potter around the fruit section, seeing if there are any offers on, planning my next baking adventure. I go to the bread and cake section, stealing ideas again. Then to the baking aisle and debate whether the 500 eggs in my fridge are enough or whether I need 6 more. Survey the tea selection. Then I end up at the cookbook section, sneakily reading them cover to cover. Then I emerge back into the sunlight, an hour later, empty handed but feeling wonderful. Sometimes that’s all I need. I’ve had my kick.

Watching TV every day. You know, I couldn’t even tell you what I’ve watched recently. It’s such a mindless activity. And so much time gets absorbed into it. It’s probably the most useless ‘every day’ thing I do. When I’m a bit knackered from work I settle down on the sofa with a cup of tea and stare at it but it’s not really like I’m watching it, I’m in some sort of trance and the TV happens to be there, keeping me company.

I’m not even going to start on ‘think about how soon my exams are’ and ‘look at my pile of textbooks.’ I worked hard all year actually, so it’s not like I’m really intimidated by it. I think it will be fine. It’s just doing it, getting started on the revision. I will. Soon.

Why I get up at 5am

Don’t worry, I’m not especially different from anyone else. It’s not that I’m one of ‘those’ people, you know, who run fifty miles before going to work, just for fun. I think of people who do that type of thing as being slightly superhuman and different from me. I don’t need to worry about aspiring to be like them because I’m just human whereas they’re superhuman, so no need to feel inadequate.

No, when I get up at 5am it’s more having willpower and liking to be in control. Let me explain.

Let’s say I’m due at work at 7am. Option 1 is that I get up around half six, get a quick shower, get dressed, have a cup of tea and some breakfast, brush my teeth, grab my bag and leave the house. If I then finish work at 3pm and go home, I’ll be a bit knackered from work so I’ll spend a bit of time sitting around staring into space. By the time I’ve shaken myself into doing something, there’s a textbook waiting to be read, so I potter over to it and spend the time until dinner doing that. Make dinner. Sit around being a bit more knackered. Go to bed. That’s Option 1.

Option 2. Wake up a few hours before I need to be awake and while I’m fresh and lively and listening to the birds sing outside, do something physical (nothing that requires too much exertion though, remember I’m not superhuman, just human). Something gentle like go for a walk or do some yoga. Then once I’ve done that I sit down at the computer and write my blog. By the time I’ve done those two things there’s usually about 45 mins left before work. So I do a bit of studying/working on essays etc while having breakfast and a cup of tea. Then about fifteen minutes before I need to leave for work I get a quick shower, dress, teeth, bag, out of the door. When I get home from work later, I’ve already done my studying so there’s no guilt factor in sitting around, if I want to. I often spend this time baking, making jam, reading or something similar.

For me, Option 1 is fine but my whole day just runs on automatic. I’ve not made that day my own. I’ve just kind of been a bystander whilst running to and fro. Option 2 starts my day off by doing things that I want to do. If I wanted to spend that whole two hours reading a good book, I could. It’s about having control of how I spend my time and the choice to start my day as I please, not just how I have to. Also, by doing all the things I like to, first thing in the morning, the rest of my day is free to do other things I like (more often than not, food-related).

When I say to people I’m getting up at 5am the next day, they marvel, they gasp, their eyes grow wide with admiration. It’s not actually a big effort at all. When the alarm beeps, I snooze it once or twice, because I’ve never in my life got up on the first beep I don’t think, and then I just think, ‘The next two hours, until the rest of the world wakes up, is mine, what shall I do with it today?’ Plus, my brain starts ticking immediately while I work out what to write on my blog and pretty soon I’m itching to get at the computer!