Geckos and school runs

Wake at 3 a.m.

Hate that.

Several fruitless attempts to fall asleep again and I finally give up.

Get coffee and read ancient clippings from Sunday Times that have been lying beside my bed gathering dust for weeks.

Before I wake the kids (which I have to do every school day in the dark at 6) I have a shower. Whilst shampooing hair a gecko plops out off the ceiling and into the shower with me.

I almost crap myself. Gecko does and then he (she? how can you tell?) clambers up the shower curtain. My shriek has successfuly woken Hat.

Between coaxing the other two out of bed and putting eggs onto boil and bread into toast, I download mails hoping for a big fat commission or an offer from a publisher.

Alas all I get are messages promoting the use of viagra (which have no use of since no husband at present), Rolex watches and – because I once bought theatre tickets online – suggestions that I ought to see Billy Elliot.

By the time I have finished filling up inbox with unwanted mail, I have hardboiled the eggs and burned the toast and the children only have 12 minutes to eat breakfast before they leave on 6.40 school run.

Twelve minutes in which they must also brush teeth, find last night’s homework, gather up lunch boxes, apply sunscreen (Hat – who not designed for Africa, with auburn curls and complexion like clotted cream), argue with me (Amelia: about what she is wearing/her proposed plans for weekend/fact it is our wont since she is 13 and I am her mum) and then fight amongst themselves about whose turn it is to sit in the front. For the 3 minutes it takes me to get them to their lift.

By the time I get home – at 6.55 – I am ready to go back to bed.

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