Morning is a dirty word. Morning and productive is a joke.

The meter reader must think I’m a freak, she turned up at 1pm and I opened the door in my PJs grunting morning. Sentences don’t happen until after 12pm AND coffee. My neighbour knows this now. I don’t do chatty when woken from deep sleep, especially when I’m lucky enough to get it.

As a child I was fortunate enough to live within sprinting distance of school, I used to get up when I heard the bell ring. By the time I got to 7th Form my best friend used to come around at lunch time make me coffee and ask me if I was going to get up today. Now as an arts student I stretch myself to the occasional 10am lecture.

Getting up early usually results in nausea and safety issues, which concerns me because I want to breed at some point. I’ve tried melatonin, lightboxes etc, but the only thing that works for me are drugs, triazolam (of which I’m a fully blown addict) and for those hateful days when I am forced to engage with the world before lunch time (breakfast time) modavigil. The trialozam spares me the restless torment of waiting hours to fall asleep, which without drugs is just before the sun starts to rise.

When I was working in London I had to get up at 6am for an 8.30 start, I never adjusted to it. I’d fall asleep just before the alarm went off after many hours of ceiling gazing and sheep shooting. I lived in hope that by the end of the week my body would submit and crash but it didn’t and I’d get some kind of rebound insomnia type effect. I knew it was out of control when I peaked at 13 cups of coffee in one day. Weekends were heaven, no more annoying happy morning type people and sleep marathons.

Sleeping is a useful savings strategy btw.