Landing on Mayfair

I decided to scrap the 'special' 50th post idea, so here's a bog standard one; apologies for not posting for a while

I woke up early this morning for the first time in almost forever, at 7:15. For some people, indeed most my age, this provokes a reaction along the lines of 'WHAT!? Are you INSANE!? 7.15!?', them not dragging their lazy arses out of bed until approximately 4pm unless they absolutely have to (I'm afraid Spanner is somewhat guilty of this). But I haven't been following my own rules recently, I've been sleeping in until the late hour of 9 o clock (unfortunately, this time might also provoke the same reaction).

My one reason for disliking the moment at which, through an odd series of convulsions, I manage to propel my nearly-slumberous body off my mattress, being postponed beyond a time which I deem 'late' (usually about 8.30), is that, particularly during the holidays, I like to feel like I'm making the most of my day. Admittedly, the same has never applied upon returning to school in the past, and it may seem a little back to front, getting tired during the holidays and resting during term time, but that's just how it's always happened for me.

Unfortunately, this morning, my wild flailing succeeded in knocking my phone and iPod off my bedside table and me instantly landing on top of them. Thankfully, nothing was broken - I don't think they do a version of A&E for pocket electronics - and I was okay too, whatever my deluge of groans and grunts may have suggested! I then proceeded to slip over a book that was on the floor, and went downstairs, and opened the kitchen door straight into my mum, scaring us both shitless. Unless I can find a four leaf clover, today's going to be a bad day.