Good morning.

Yup.  Half four and I’m not long out of bed.

Back in the sixties, when I was a student, I first started experimenting with my biological clock.  I came to the incontrovertible conclusion that I am a night-time person.   My natural time for getting up was around three in the afternoon.  Night-time was for the serious matters in life like carousing and drinking.  Sleep was for wimps.

Now that I am released from the dictatorship of the alarm clock, I have let my biological clock have its way with me.  Life has somewhat turned upside down and has reverted to the natural way of things.

My cycle is now dictated by my needs, and not by the needs of others.  When I am tired, I go to bed.  When I am rested, I get up.  At first, I just found my self going to bed later and later.  I wondered if it just carry on regressing but it didn’t.  My natural bedtime seems to be around four in the morning.  It hasn’t budged from that for quite a while now.  It means I don’t wake up until midday at the earliest, and more often than not, a good deal later.  If anyone wants me in the morning, they can go fuck themselves.  It may be their morning, but it’s my night.

It does have one or two snags though.

If the postman is delivering something that won’t fit through the letterbox, he rings the bell.  It’s all very well for him, but the inconsiderate fucker is waking me up at midnight.

The main problem though is dinner time.

Those bastards in the takeaway insist on closing their doors when it is only mid morning for me.

Rats.