So whilst browsing the blogosphere, which I’m not going to
lie, is one of my most favourite things to do in that half an hour between
getting home from work and making something to eat, I came across a post by a
blogger wherein she goes through her morning routine (and wow I feel terrible
because I didn’t bookmark it and now I can’t link back, shit) and guess what? I
LOVED IT. I loved it I think, because I am the nosiest and I like looking into
the little window of other folks lives and seeing what goes on there and so
then I thought if I like that stuff then other people probably do also (because
thinking that makes me feel like less of a weirdo) so I decided I’d return the
favour and let you into my morning.
Which looks like this.
I actually do love it.
& it has totally revolutionised
my entire morning and WHO I AM AS A PERSON. It’s set for 6.40am because I ain’t
ever going to be that ROLL OUT OF BED AND FACE THE DAY kind of a girl. So it
goes off at 6.40am and I hit snooze which keeps the light on but tells the
birds to stop the dawn chorus for a minute or so and close my eyes for another
couple of minutes and then I crawl out of bed and get a glass of water, crawl
back into bed, pick up my phone and check WhatsApp and Instagram and snuggle
the kittens until the birds start again at 7 – also usually by this time my
kittens are fed up of cuddling and are demanding ALL OF THE ATTENTION and also
ALL OF THE FOOD so it kind of makes sense to turn off the alarm and drag myself
out of bed.
So I do, and I am grumpy about it. Every morning I am grumpy about the whole getting up thing. Even
though being jolted awake by some awful sounding iPhone noise is a thing of the
past, I still hate leaving the
comfort of my bed.
But I do. Because I am a (semi)functioning adult with bills to pay
and I have no choice. Also as much as I hate getting up, I do actually love going about my day. Unless it’s
Monday.
So I get up and I have a shower – never ever wash my hair in
a morning though because it takes a million years to dry and what do you even mean,
I never exaggerate – and do my face and clean my teeth and get dressed and
straighten my hair and all that other getting
ready stuff and then I have another glass of water and make my bed because
coming home at night to an unmade bed stresses
me out. By now it’s about 7.30am and I drag my still-not-quite-awake-self
downstairs and make an espresso and put some food down for the catboys.
Seriously: that is
when I start to feel like a human person and not a leftover relic from a zombie
apocalypse.
Breakfast is usually a smoothie (almond milk, Greek yoghurt,
peanut butter and vanilla protein powder FYI) and as I sit down to drink that,
usually about 7.45am, my best guy calls and I sit in my comfy reading chair and
chat to him whilst he drives to work.
If the weather is inclement and I’m driving then I have
about another 20 minutes before I need to leave.
YES COFFEE.
I still make a latte and I still make it in a travel mug,
actually, but I’ll drink it at home instead of on my walk so I’ll probably have
another look at Instagram, check some emails, maybe read a chapter of my book,
cuddle the kittens a little bit longer, and then I’ll panic because I don’t
know where my car keys are. This happens probably 65% of the time. They are
invariably under a cushion on the sofa even though they live on the top shelf
of the bookcase.
And that, my friends, is what my morning looks like.
This is different, obviously, if I stop over at my best
guy’s house. He’s an early riser, like, so early it’s still night time in the
eyes of any sane person. It’s generally the weekend, so at around 6ish he’ll
put on BBC breakfast and I’ll cuddle-grumble about it. He generally gets up
pretty quickly once he’s decided he’s awake and so after a while he’ll extricate
himself from my limpet like snuggles and disappear off into the sauna or
whatever and I’ll half listen to BBC Breakfast and half fall back asleep.
Then I’ll fall totally back asleep. On his side of the bed
because he’s left it all warm.
He’ll come in about 7.45 and ask if I want a coffee. I’ll
say yes and roll back over. I’ll drag
myself out of bed around 8, have a shower and put on his hoody to sleepily
wander into the kitchen. I’ll drink my coffee whilst he makes breakfast – he
has mad porridge skills - and then decamp to the sofa with coffee number two
and half watch the television and half read my book til I feel properly awake.
Around 9.30am, usually.
My best morning
though is when we’re in the mountains outside of ski season (ski holiday
mornings are ridic and manic and I hate them). We wake up at around 6 and
lounge about til we finally get up around 7 because who wants to waste a minute
of holiday sleeping. NOT ME (ok actually sometimes a little bit me and some
days we do lie in til 8ish) – we get
up and we drink tea and shower and then we go for an early morning walk round
the lake. It’s all super pretty and not too busy yet although there’s usually a
runner or two or people with dogs and small children that you can smile and bonjour to. We stop at the little café
on the edge of the lake for a grand café au lait and then we head home either
a: via the boulangerie for almond croissants that we eat at home on the balcony
or b: via another little café somewhere for more coffee, and tartine with jam
and Nutella and honey. We’re probably back at the apartment for about half 9 –
10ish and it’s just the best start to any day ever. If I could morning like that every day then I’d totally be a
morning person. 
