Readers with small children I do hope you’ll indulge me here, but this weeks delight comes from choosing to wake up very early. I’m not talking about setting an alarm every morning for 6am for the relentless grind of work, I’m talking about waking up whilst it’s still quite dark for no other reason than getting up before the rest of the world.
At various points during the most recent lockdown at the start of this year - AKA one of the worst periods of time known to man, I would wake up at 4.45am for five days running each week to watch England play India in cricket (test cricket a HUGE delight in itself!) I’d slope downstairs in my hooded dressing gown, make myself a cup of coffee and sit on the sofa next to my dog, both of us wrapped in a huge blanket and I’d stare blearily at the muted tv screen. All of those things - my dog, a hooded dressing gown, a blanket - bring me joy on a daily basis as it is, but paired with the early start and the cricket, chefs kiss. It would take me a few overs to come around and really take on board what was happening, but then I would settle in to a few hours of gentle, methodical, sometimes thrilling, often heart-breaking play. Test cricket doesn’t have a reputation for being the most exciting or pacy of sports, but the patience you give it gets repaid tenfold in enjoyment. So, at the start of the year, after spending Christmas in self isolation and once again being furloughed with an increasing sense of job insecurity, those very early mornings watching the cricket gave me hope that some semblance of normality was just within reach. Despite not seeing anyone outside of my home for weeks on end, I felt reconnected to other people again.
Conversely, in our increasingly always on, always accessible culture, sometimes the only way for me to feel disconnected is to get up before the internet does. Switching my phone off only leaves me anxious that something is happening and I’m missing it being live streamed on twitter (for my sins.) But waking up before the cursed bird app starts tweeting - that’s an hours uninterrupted reading or writing or general mooching which, once in a while, does me the world of good. The trick is not to set an alarm, just roll with it if I wake up any time after 5am, and make my peace with an extremely early start in return for a slice of hush.
I took this picture back in January at 5.30am after getting up to watch some cricket and catching the first of the undisturbed snow - it honestly felt like magic.
As a rule, I’m not a fan of journalism for the sole sake of mocking the subject, but I honestly LIVE for “A Day in the Life” profiles of famous people (usually men!) where they get up at 4am to sprinkle the crushed bones of an endangered bird over their chia porridge and take 18 showers per day. The lack of self awareness is hilariously staggering - the reality is that most people couldn’t do this without substantial help (most often in the form of a wife!) and fail to acknowledge the support system they have in place that keeps their homes running whilst they’re doing an extremely niche form of yoga at 5am before half an hour of chanting. This tends to give the very early morning a bad rap. And in all honestly, I do not enjoy an early morning, where my slumber has been interrupted by a piercing alarm (or more likely for me, the light from my Lumie alarm clock - 10 out of 10, absolutely recommend!) but sometimes I need the peace, and if I’m really truthful, it makes me feel virtuous. Which I suppose is to say - the true delight of a very early morning is the feeling of smugness - which you can’t really put a price on.
Micro-Doses of Delight
Delight is a stretch, but I certainly found this article on intimate data and health tracking apps fascinating (and at times horrifying?!)
On the topic of Fitbits et al, this essay by David Sedaris made my face hurt from laughing, and sums up perfectly why I can’t have one. I’m very much looking forward to my time off in the new year to get stuck in to his latest offering, A Carnival of Snackery.
Which? have been doing the lords work and have done a deep dive into what chocolate tubs are most likely to contain our favourite sweets.
It’s painfully clear that our current education system is not set up for neurodiverse students, so I can only imagine the difference this cookery school for students with ADHD makes to those who attend.
Please enjoy these Penguins posting their letters to Father Christmas.
Mary Oliver talking much more eloquently than I have on waking up early.
If you’re struggling to pick a book as a gift for someone this Christmas - might I suggest making a donation to The Book Trust in their name instead? Your donation will go towards providing books for vulnerable children or children in care - hugely worthwhile and will avoid a potentially useless gift!
Thanks once again for reading, and if you are the parent of a small child my greatest wish for you is no early mornings for the foreseeable future! Meanwhile I’m off to decimate my sleep schedule in the vain hope England can at least draw The Ashes. If you’ve enjoyed this newsletter - please feel free to share! N xo
Mate,honestly I LIVE for having that hour of peace before the world wakes up,regrettably here it’s rare unless I voluntarily got up at 3am each day to secure it! But I absolutely get it!!