The clocks went back here last week but I’ve yet to change the time on my mobile phone. It’s not through negligence. Oh no. It is, in fact, a cunning plan through which I hope to deceive myself into going to bed at a more reasonable hour and waking earlier, in the hope of achieving a head start on the day.
Does it sound desperate? Probably. Admit me to the Maudsley if you wish; I do not care, since so far it’s working rather well, especially so in the mornings when, half asleep, I look at the phone and think, ‘Oh, goodness! It’s eight-thirty. Get-up-get-up-get-up’.
The shower is usually turned on by the time the cogs have turned sufficiently for me realise I’m an hour ahead, by which moment it’s too late – I’m out of bed.