Anyone who has encountered me immediately after I’ve woken up will tell you...I’m not a morning person. Actually I think they’d agree that saying "I’m not a morning person” is probably the understatement of the century. I’m actually vile first thing, and I’m pretty useless until I’ve been conscious for at least three hours (and that’s still dependent on whether I’ve been able to get a nicotine and caffeine hit within those three hours). Me and the middle bro share similar early morning traits, including an inability to rouse in the first place, aggressive responses to being woken, irritability once awake, and incoherence for a minimum of thirty minutes prior to consciousness.
I think we take after my dad in that way. As a kid I always remember the different waking styles between my mum and dad. As you sat at the breakfast table, and heard their alarm clock launch into it’s somewhat startling beeping wake-up call, you knew exactly which parent had got out of bed, within a matter of seconds. Mum would launch herself out of bed, so the first footsteps you’d hear on the ceiling above your head were never quite in line with where you knew they should have fallen. Mum could have been a long jumper in a previous life, I’m quite sure of this. If mum was turning the alarm off it managed to get out approximately one and a quarter “beeps” before being silenced. From there you would hear her sprint to the bedroom door in three easy steps, you’d hear the twang of her dressing gown hanging hook as she grabbed it from the back of her bedroom door, and the running sound of footsteps down the stairs (like a child on Christmas morning). This would be followed quickly by the sound of the downstairs loo door being opened, and then the sound of mum going for a pee. Delightful when you’re trying to enjoy your Rice Krispies and your first brew of the day. My parents worked away a lot, although on opposite shift patterns, so it was usually either one or the other getting up to ensure we’d all got off to school okay, and if they both happened to be around together then mum was always the one to get up.
When she wasn’t there however, the responsibility lay solely in dads hands (much to his displeasure I’m sure). In comparison you’d hear the alarm go off for several minutes if dad had to get up and turn it off. Finally you’d hear the heavy “thump” of a leg being thrown out of bed, and an audible grumble as he sleepily shuffled across the bedroom to turn “that bloody thing off”...there would be more shuffling as you heard him make his way to their en-suite (why mum never used this I have no idea??), and then a slow heavy plod to the top of the stairs. Bleary eyed he’d pause at the top of the stairs (grumbling to himself yet again) and make a one-slow-step-at-a-time descent. To my eternal amusement, I don’t think he ever managed to make it down the stairs once in the whole time we lived there without getting some form of cramp half way down the stairs. I don’t know why I found this so funny...I think it’s just because it was so predictable. As a kid you have no idea how quickly things like clicky ankles and cramp will creep up on you. I have to admit – I don’t find it quite as funny now it happens to me! Dad would then shuffle to the kitchen door...always with only one eye open, and make his way to “his seat” at the head of the breakfast table. He would sit, light a cigarette, and gesture at you to make him a cup of tea. He had a strange routine with tea and coffee actually...his first drink of the day was tea with milk, his second was coffee with milk, and then all subsequent drinks were black coffee. Odd little biscuit that he was. There was never any conversation with dad in the morning. He had got out of bed purely to make sure you’d gone to school. I’m quite certain after we’d all left he went straight back to bed.
I’ve always been a heavy sleeper. When I was at boarding school I was always positioned on a top bunk close to the fire alarm as I’d been known to sleep through them, but I didn’t have problems being sociable in the morning until I hit the age of about fifteen. The transition was a quick one from teenager to early morning monster, and it amused my parents no end. Dad was just pleased to find someone who had more difficulty functioning before 9am than he did, and would go out of his way to wind me up first thing in the morning. The boys knew that by waking me they took their lives in their hands and so rather than enter my room chose to poke me with the metre long loft hatch opening stick from my bedroom door. To be fair if they’d ever got close to me that early and woke me up they would have had a punch in the balls, so this was probably a wise move on their part.
As I got older friends and partners learned early on that trying to hold a conversation with me before I woken up fully was pointless...not to mention dangerous, and co-workers have learned the hard way that my early morning rule of “no talking before Nero’s” is not something I’m willing to budge on. It comes to something when you can go away on a holiday to France with your favourite smug married’s and as their five year old son approaches you (just pleased to see you after a long sleep), they instinctively grab him, haul him away from you whilst reproaching the bemused child with:
“Cameron No!! What has mummy told you? We don’t talk to Auntie Natz until after she’s had a cup of tea and a cigarette! Now come away before you get hurt”
You’d think that my early morning foul moods were caused by tiredness, so you’d think I’d make the effort to get to bed at a reasonable hour...and yet I can’t seem to do it. If I venture to bed before midnight it’s a miracle. I’m a night owl and just can’t bring myself to go to bed any earlier. I don’t know why, but I’m quite sure my late nights only exasperate the situation. But never the less, as I prepare for another late night/early morning combo, at least I can feel safe in the knowledge that everyone knows me well enough to no longer be phased by my split personality with regards to the hours approaching midday...and anyone who gets to know me in the future...well I guess I’ll let them read this first!!
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