This morning, I awoke before 5 a.m. On a Sunday
morning, a hangover free Sunday morning, without a flight to catch, with no
requirement for a mad bout of pre-visitor housework and undisturbed by the dog,
I awoke before 5 of my own accord.
There was the usual 15 minutes battle between the need to pee and the desire to go back to sleep. I knew that once I got out of bed, I would be awake for the day. If I wake up at around 3 in the morning in need of the loo, I get up instantly and within 1 minute I am back in bed and straight back to sleep – and that includes the time it takes to wash my hands. If I wake up later, I dither. The delay is a false economy, because once the bladder has won, it then plays hard to get. You’ve given in and gone to the loo, but the bladder then does its spiteful little trick of taking its own good time to empty. I googled this, Google suggested a urinary infection. I didn’t like this suggestion, so I decided that it was caused by slow-to-wake-up bladder or possibly sulking because I wouldn’t get up immediately bladder. Both of these little known medical predicaments are, of course, entirely made up by me. I have based my diagnosis on the fact that it only happens around this time of the morning and to make my diagnosis more accurate I am completely overlooking the efficiency of the bladder should a 3 a.m. call to the bathroom be required.
Bladder control regained, I reclaimed my bed, but there was no going back to sleep, even though it was more than an hour before sunrise. I dithered with the idea of treating the dog to a very early walk and picking blackberries whilst the park was free of other dogs. They wouldn’t be competition for the bramble bounty, but it is quite difficult to pick fruit when 25 kg of shar pei is straining to kill all other small mammals. The idea of leaving the bed at that hour, let alone the house, was abandoned due to a slight chill in the air and lethargy.
What I really wanted was a cup of tea, preferably a pot. What I didn’t want was to go downstairs, risk waking the dog and brave the cold kitchen. The battle lasted 14 minutes less than the bladder battle. If I wanted tea, I needed to move. Whilst I was waiting for the kettle to boil, which takes seconds in the day, but at least 23 minutes at 5 in the morning I remembered my mum’s Goblin Teasmade. At 13, I thought this the most ridiculous, self-indulgent affectation. We didn’t live in a mansion, why couldn’t they just get up and boil the kettle? However 35 years on, I understand. Is this yet another sign of middle-age? I console myself with the fact that I am 7 years older than my mother would have been when she went through her ‘must have a Teasmade’ phase.
I am now on my second cup of tea. The dog has been fed and is snorting away at the bottom of the stairs, which is his way of encouraging me to get up. If I had a Teasmade, he would still be in his bed, fast asleep. I looked on Amazon. Teasmades now are very sleek, they are also around £70. £70 for a kettle with a clock or a clock with a kettle, whichever way you wish to view it, seems a lot. I am not that bothered about the tea being made when I wake up, it is more having to venture downstairs for the tea that bothers me. I could keep a tin of tea and a travel kettle in the bedroom, but that seems a bit grim, I might as well go back to living in a studio flat. I could get a one cup tea maker for around £20, without the clock. Or I could get a “tea tool” for less than £6, although that does look like an instrument of torture and I don’t like the idea of putting an electrical item in water. A kettle is an electrical item containing water – how is that any less scary? Where is my logic? It just boils down to choice (no pun intended at all).
I want a Teasmade, and for some reason, it has to be Goblin, a Swan just won’t do. Swan do quite a nice new one, but it has cups, not the much-desired pot, and the front clock is luminous blue. I like to sleep in as much darkness as possible, so luminous bue just won’t do. In general, I am against too many electrical items in a bedroom. I am convinced they interfere with my sleep pattern. However, now that I want tea, a machine that fills a pot with boiling water, has a clock, lights, an alarm and a radio is suddenly acceptable in the bedroom. I suspect that I will go off it after a week. I don’t usually lay in bed once I am awake in the morning. As soon as the bladder battle is out of the way, I get up and feed the dog, then potter about with a cup of tea for an hour before walking him. Also, it might hum. Electrical items hum (NOT the kind you are thinking of, it isn’t that kind of blog). It would keep me awake.
It is possible that I want a 1970s retro Teasmade because so much of me is clearly stuck in the 1970s. However I am not spending £70 on something I will use for a week. Furthermore, one of my new year’s resolutions was to get rid of the clutter that I have, not to add to it by paying for other people’s clutter. The Teasmade will have to wait a little longer.
There was the usual 15 minutes battle between the need to pee and the desire to go back to sleep. I knew that once I got out of bed, I would be awake for the day. If I wake up at around 3 in the morning in need of the loo, I get up instantly and within 1 minute I am back in bed and straight back to sleep – and that includes the time it takes to wash my hands. If I wake up later, I dither. The delay is a false economy, because once the bladder has won, it then plays hard to get. You’ve given in and gone to the loo, but the bladder then does its spiteful little trick of taking its own good time to empty. I googled this, Google suggested a urinary infection. I didn’t like this suggestion, so I decided that it was caused by slow-to-wake-up bladder or possibly sulking because I wouldn’t get up immediately bladder. Both of these little known medical predicaments are, of course, entirely made up by me. I have based my diagnosis on the fact that it only happens around this time of the morning and to make my diagnosis more accurate I am completely overlooking the efficiency of the bladder should a 3 a.m. call to the bathroom be required.
Bladder control regained, I reclaimed my bed, but there was no going back to sleep, even though it was more than an hour before sunrise. I dithered with the idea of treating the dog to a very early walk and picking blackberries whilst the park was free of other dogs. They wouldn’t be competition for the bramble bounty, but it is quite difficult to pick fruit when 25 kg of shar pei is straining to kill all other small mammals. The idea of leaving the bed at that hour, let alone the house, was abandoned due to a slight chill in the air and lethargy.
What I really wanted was a cup of tea, preferably a pot. What I didn’t want was to go downstairs, risk waking the dog and brave the cold kitchen. The battle lasted 14 minutes less than the bladder battle. If I wanted tea, I needed to move. Whilst I was waiting for the kettle to boil, which takes seconds in the day, but at least 23 minutes at 5 in the morning I remembered my mum’s Goblin Teasmade. At 13, I thought this the most ridiculous, self-indulgent affectation. We didn’t live in a mansion, why couldn’t they just get up and boil the kettle? However 35 years on, I understand. Is this yet another sign of middle-age? I console myself with the fact that I am 7 years older than my mother would have been when she went through her ‘must have a Teasmade’ phase.
I am now on my second cup of tea. The dog has been fed and is snorting away at the bottom of the stairs, which is his way of encouraging me to get up. If I had a Teasmade, he would still be in his bed, fast asleep. I looked on Amazon. Teasmades now are very sleek, they are also around £70. £70 for a kettle with a clock or a clock with a kettle, whichever way you wish to view it, seems a lot. I am not that bothered about the tea being made when I wake up, it is more having to venture downstairs for the tea that bothers me. I could keep a tin of tea and a travel kettle in the bedroom, but that seems a bit grim, I might as well go back to living in a studio flat. I could get a one cup tea maker for around £20, without the clock. Or I could get a “tea tool” for less than £6, although that does look like an instrument of torture and I don’t like the idea of putting an electrical item in water. A kettle is an electrical item containing water – how is that any less scary? Where is my logic? It just boils down to choice (no pun intended at all).
I want a Teasmade, and for some reason, it has to be Goblin, a Swan just won’t do. Swan do quite a nice new one, but it has cups, not the much-desired pot, and the front clock is luminous blue. I like to sleep in as much darkness as possible, so luminous bue just won’t do. In general, I am against too many electrical items in a bedroom. I am convinced they interfere with my sleep pattern. However, now that I want tea, a machine that fills a pot with boiling water, has a clock, lights, an alarm and a radio is suddenly acceptable in the bedroom. I suspect that I will go off it after a week. I don’t usually lay in bed once I am awake in the morning. As soon as the bladder battle is out of the way, I get up and feed the dog, then potter about with a cup of tea for an hour before walking him. Also, it might hum. Electrical items hum (NOT the kind you are thinking of, it isn’t that kind of blog). It would keep me awake.
It is possible that I want a 1970s retro Teasmade because so much of me is clearly stuck in the 1970s. However I am not spending £70 on something I will use for a week. Furthermore, one of my new year’s resolutions was to get rid of the clutter that I have, not to add to it by paying for other people’s clutter. The Teasmade will have to wait a little longer.
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