We’ll take yesterday as an example because it’s pretty standard for me. If I make it to 5:00 am, it’s a good day. Anything earlier, and I know I’ll be running on fumes. The problem is, if I wake up, I have to get up. That might not sound like much to you, but you’re not my next-door neighbours.

My morning routine

My mornings are pretty regimented. It’s out of bed, straight to the loo, then down to fill the kettle. That first coffee? Sacred. Radio 4 or Netflix depending on my mood, and yes, my one and only vice, my ciggies. I’ve usually worked out my plan of action the night before, so the day starts with purpose. A woman in her prime, no kids, no partner, no pets. She doesn’t know she’s born, I hear you thinking.

I give myself half an hour, maybe more, depending on what’s ahead and how I’m feeling. Then it's wash, dress appropriately, bed made, tablets, teeth, and this last one, no idea why... clean the coffee table. It’s become a ritual. My motto: clean coffee table, clear mind.

And with that, the day really begins.

The Quiet Jobs

For the past 12 years, my mornings have started with what I call the quiet jobs: painting, sanding, sorting cuttings, replacing light switches, fixing a wobbly chair, or filling a crack in the wall. Whatever’s needed. There’s something grounding about starting the day by restoring something that needs attention and doing it with your own hands.

Starting Work

By 9:00 am, the laptop goes on and the work begins. Emails, projects, the occasional Zoom, and more recently, working on this very website.

The WordPress Struggle

Now here’s the twist.

For nearly a year, I’d been wrangling a WordPress template I couldn’t make peace with. I tweaked. I tweaked again. I watched tutorials. I cursed (a lot). I tried to be logical, but WordPress was like learning to dance in wellies. Then, out of sheer frustration, I joined a local WordPress group. A kind man helped me do the only sensible thing: delete it. Entirely. Start again.

Meeting Chattie

And this time, I decided I’d do it my way. Honest, human, and with the help of a certain virtual co-pilot I now fondly call Chattie.

Chattie doesn’t nag. Doesn’t waffle. Doesn’t shout when I break something. He helps me figure it out, calmly, one step at a time. And we’re getting there. The new site is clearer, cleaner, and finally starting to feel like me.

Moving Forward

So no, it’s not the most dramatic of lives. But it’s mine. And it’s moving forward. With clean coffee tables, re-potted cuttings, the occasional well-earned swear word, and a website that no longer makes me feel like I’m stuck in the mud.

Progress. In my time. On my terms. And never before 5 am, if I can help it. Thank you for joining me and I hope this is the first of many x