Still freezing! When will this winter of discontent end? Made me think about getting up on these cold, dark mornings – like today, for instance. How I hate it. However, the number of people I have come across, recently, who choose to get up at 6am, just because. What is wrong with them? Why would anyone choose to leave a cosy bed more than five minutes before absolutely necessary? It takes all sorts …
I still have my ancient little alarm clock on my bedside table – belonged to Becca, once upon a time – and, until very recently, it provided my wake-up beep. Not any more. I have advanced. Now, I set a gentle tone on my phone – followed by another half-an-hour later and sometimes another after that. I cannot get up immediately. I refuse. If there was a fire? Well, yes. When the children were little? Affirmative! Wilbur needing out? No choice but … In the absence of an emergency, every minute, snug in bed, is precious and to be milked. I know myself and, thus, if I have to be ready and out by a set time – sadly, increasingly so – I work backwards and set my phone alarm to go off half an hour before I need to get up, just prior to the news. Such a joy to be jolted into life by positivity! I pull the downie over my head – allowing, only, the tip of my nose and one ear out – and proceed to doze, listening to the radio and questioning why it is that time is accelerated beyond all recognition when one needs to get up? As I contemplate the polar temperatures, I vow to go to bed earlier ‘tonight’ allowing more time in, clearly, my favourite place. The thing is, come ‘tonight’, ‘my favourite place’ has become a distant memory and it’s back to my childhood mindset: the sooner I go to bed, the sooner tomorrow will come. Remember those dreaded Sunday evenings, Songs of Praise on TV and school tomorrow? It stays with you. Pop said it never left him! That being so, unless it’s Christmas, I’m off to Rome, Salzburg or Montana, or my EuroMillions winnings are being deposited into my account tomorrow, I’ll just stay up a bit longer and revel in that special solitude afforded by the advancing hour; a time of unrivalled peace when one has nowhere to be and the stress of the day abates. My favourite time.
My downfall. There are early birds and there are night owls. I am – and have always been – the latter. What makes it so? Are we born one or t’other? Is it something to do with birth or one’s time in the womb? My mother was always a night owl, coming alive in the early hours, while Pop was the complete opposite. He would be in his jammies by 10.30pm at the latest – or thereabouts – when he would have his ‘flakes’ (a bowl of cereal for supper) after his nightly routine of winding up the cuckoo clock! It is said that one should have a nightly routine and stick to it, retiring at the same hour routinely. Not me. Sadly? Well, definitely explains why I do not relish an early morning rise but, then, I just find it impossible to forego the freedom of the night. You know what, I just hate being constrained, full-stop; being dictated to by the clock. That’s it. There are those who thrive on routine and, once upon a time, I was much more amenable – much more? A little more. Not anymore! Let me check my diary? No need.
So, February wends its weary way as Trump continues to shake it up and, here, Keir ‘Jong Un’ wrestles with the revelations that he broke lockdown rules to meet his ‘voice coach’ (seriously?) – more believable would be a personality donor – while dragging this country further down into the abyss of wokery. As the horrors of preventable knife crime become ever more frequent – the negligence of the health service, heart-breaking in the extreme – the posse of blood-sucking management who hold the NHS to ransom plead under-funding while continuing to advertise posts for Diversity & Inclusivity Officers commanding six-figure salaries. The audacity! The insult! How can they get away with this? How stupid do they think we are? Rhetorical. The seeds of this management coup were sown in the Eighties, after all. I’d love to hear Hugh’s (Grant!) views on the National Health Service. Of course, successful actor that he is, he has no need to rely on its services – or lack of – but, rest assured, he will not be without opinion; an intelligent one, at that, embedded in sarcasm. Quite honestly, if one could download Hugh Grant on the CALM app, the world would be a happier place. Imagine listening to his humorous rantings before going to sleep each night – perfect. Let’s face it, he could write this! Only last night, Becca sent me another reel in which he was adding to his long list of intolerances: rucksacks! People who wear rucksacks! People who insist on walking and talking to nobody – well, they’ve got AirPods in their ears; roadworks causing utter chaos with absolutely nobody working on them! He hates people walking behind him – me, too! The absurd belief that one is going to die of thirst the minute one leaves the house … I don’t ever remember my parents drinking water, let alone carrying a bottle of the stuff everywhere! The world has gone mad – apart from Hugh Grant, clearly! Do you think he’d agree to stand in for me when I can’t be bothered? Come to think of it, why don’t I have a calendar of him in the kitchen?
What else of cheer? Kiefer Sutherland is in the Radio 2 Piano Room this morning. Huge fan of his music – and him. A really nice, down-to-earth guy, by all accounts, we were lucky enough to see him at the Queen’s Hall in August 2023. Packed to the gunnels, it remains one of my favourite concerts. His music has the country vibe I love: misery to the accompaniment of guitar and drums – no computers! Listen to his album, Bloor Street … Actually, we swanned in about 7pm, only to learn that people had been queueing the length of South Clerk Street since the morning. A famous actor – who almost married Julia Roberts until she ran off with his best friend two days before – his leading role in the brilliant Netflix series, Designated Survivor, I think had something to do with it. Anyway, note to self, to watch him on BBC iPlayer tonight. It’s the little things.
Actually, on the subject of the Radio 2 Piano Room, Coldplay were the first to do a set last week. The format requires each artist/group to perform a cover and, donning the black-rimmed glasses, Chris & Co chose The Proclaimers’ Sunshine on Leith. Wow! Always a beautiful song, the music so evocative; the violins pulling at every heart string. A reminder, if ever one needs one, that no matter the criticism, the despair, frustration – nay, frequent embarrassment – to be born in Scotland means that it is forever in one’s blood. Caledonia, forever home …
‘You don’t write because you want to say something; you write because you have something to say.’
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Exactly. I call it a calling!
This is Trish, signing off.
