Late start. Better get up. Don't want to get up, though. The bed is warm and comfy. Time for the morning mantra:- "Just five more minutes, just five more minutes, just five more minutes...." Repeat to fade.... fade.... fade....
Quick start. Shit. Get up. Now. Shower. Teeth brushed. Clothes on. Grab bag. Stumble out. The standard pocket check at the door:- large right hand pocket = wallet, travelcard, work passes; small right hand pocket = keys; left hand pocket = phones plus loose change. All present and correct, sir. (P.S. Don't forget to deadlock door.)
It's bright. But it's quite cold. Is the light jacket a mistake? Should I have gone for the heavy coat? No, it's not that cold really. Good gravy, look at that fella! Thick coat, scarf, woolly hat. It's nippy, squire, not arctic. Maybe he's from one of those tropical countries where anything less than thirty degrees is deepest winter.
Headphones in, iPod on. What mood? Easy listening? Nope. Soul? Not today. Bit of rock? Oh, yeah, got the new Eagles Of Death Metal album that I haven't listened to yet, bung it on.
Station corner. Bloody hell, that guy's eyebrows are amazing. He could shelter short people from the rain under those bushy protuberances. I wonder if that's natural or if he cultivates them especially? Maybe there's some of eyebrow-related contest like the World Beard And Moustache Championships? If he doesn't win something for those hairy caterpillars, there's no justice in the world.
Late start trains = seats! This all very much more civilised than the usual scrum. I could get used to this kind of commuting life. I can even write something in the old notebook for a bit. Until more people get on (don't look over my shoulder, mate, that's rude). Bastard bloody people. Don't get me wrong, I'm a people person, just individually, not all at once.
Waterloo East. Escalator down, escalator up and out through Southwark station. The light has changed. A curious mixture of heavily overcast yet brightly sunny. Walking over Blackfriars Bridge and there's sunshine to the left and sunshine to the right (beaming down on St Paul's Cathedral) and yet dark clouds loom up ahead. That's probably a metaphor for something but it's much too early in the morning for that. Life's like that sometimes. (Apparently meaningless similes are fine at this of day, though.)
Oh no, some vagrant is coming towards me, about to accost me. He's coming right up to me, good grief, can't he see that - oh, it's a mate of mine that I haven't seen for a little while. So I was partly right. Coming for a drink with us on Thurs? No, he can't make it. Next time? Yep, next time.
Onwards and outwards. The route so familiar, the treads made on autopilot. Weave through traffic, judge dash across road (little man says red but the traffic is stopped), avoid random ditherer.
Quick stop for the regular breakfast. Yogurt and an apple. Well, the new regular breakfast as of the last couple of weeks replacing the previous default setting of a ham and cheese croissant (mmm, ham and cheese croissant). Trying to be a bit healthier, not getting any younger, definitely getting somewhat wider.
And then I'm in and I'm slightly late. Conference call started so jacket off, breakfast down, handset up, dial in and work head on. And so the day begins...