Saturday morning:
7.00am - Alarm goes off. Mild panic ensues as I think I'm late for work. As the panic subsides horror takes over as I realise I've got a duty at the charity. Still hit the snooze button anyway.
7.09am - Snoozed alarm goes off. Deny all knowledge of volunteering commitments. Hit snooze.
7.18am - Second snooze is over. Swear a bit. Kick legs in air in manner of small child. Have tantrum.
7.19am - Tantrum over. Put contact lenses in, attempt to drag brush through hair that has become a rats' nest over night (what DO I do in my sleep?).
7.21am - Bathroom-tastic. Spend too long brushing teeth as become mesmerised by sight of own, terrifying reflection.
7.35am - Attempt to find clothes that don't make me look like a bag lady and/or mad.
7.36am - Give up the search and fling on nearest clothes. Look in mirror. Curse fact I look like a bag lady. And mad.
7.40am - Stumble downstairs, set off house alarm, wake entire street up. Nice work, Helen.
7.45am - Shove food in mouth and try to chew. Do not like bananas at the best of times, let alone pre-8am on a Saturday morning.
7.46am - Resent life and all it contains.
7.50am - Finish chewing banana, try to hold back retching.
7.51am - Leave house. Realise car is iced over. Swear. At car. At myself. At weather. At pigeons.
7.52am - Find de-icer. De-ice car.
7.55am - Get in car. Turn heating on.
8.00am - Drive away from house in a whirlwind of dread, resentment and banana hating. Realise morning is quite pretty. Stop moaning.
