It’s fairly early in the morning and although it’s not quite 8, I’m already showered, dressed and charged with enough power to get me through the day. I feel like I have an adrenaline rush.

This is all particularly strange since I didn’t sleep all that well last night; John got up twice during the night for various reasons, none of which I particularly cared about at the time. I verbally scowled at him on both occasions, telling him to stop jumping out of bed as though it were Christmas. He asked me how else he should climb out of bed and I said something to the effect that he should be calmer about the whole process.

When I awoke the third time, it was 7 and my mobile phone nearly vibrated itself off the bureau beside my bed in alarm. I launched myself toward it. In a voice like Swiss cheese, John asked for the time.

‘It’s time to get up, of course!’ I cried over the sound of the shower I was preheating while I lined my toothbrush with paste. “Come on! Yay!’