The Early Starts

If I was asked to wake up at 5.15am a couple of years ago, I would probably have tried every method in the book to avoid such a thing. Not even Alan Sugar wakes up at such an hour... But here I was, on Saturday morning, more thankful I had not decided to go out the night before, eating cornflakes and drinking my tea with milk and 2 sugars... Perfectly comfortable at 5.20 in the morning...

I found the art of waking up a little bit too simple this weekend. I thought I would find it increasingly difficult, what with my insane sleeping habits. I felt I was more likely to wake up at 5.15 in the afternoon, than in the morning.

However, what I found myself doing was getting to work a full 20 minutes early, which seemed to impress the early rising Goddess of All Evil, who has, strangely, become less evil since I have moved off nights. I found this out, I'm sorry to say, to my amusement, as she absolutely killed the night shift pair for not doing a good job. In fairness, the pair of them are awful, and, "Don't have enough time to do everything", despite the shop closing at 1am... Bull****!

Anyway. I survived the 8 hours of the morning rather easily, what with free coffees on the go, but when 2pm came, I was out the door quicker than you can say, "Steve Harmison", as Father Mitten was waiting to taxi me to the first leg of my cricketing weekend. I must point out, with the Mittenmobile up for sale, I planned to keep the car at home for as much of the weekend as possible, allowing any potential buyers to view it. Only one of which we have had....

Anyway. As we zoomed to the location of the cricket, discussing fridges, I was looking forward to the afternoon, despite a tinge of tiredness. Upon arrival, I was glad to see Beddoe back on the cricketing scene, and we won very comfortably, despite me being bowled for 17 by one that rolled. This pitch was more of a farm, but whatever. Win's a win. After much discussion about 15-year old Carpo's, 18th birthday bash, I was given a lift home by Joe The Beddoe, and after not much of an attempt to socialise a bit via my Internet Service Providings, I collapsed to sleep at around 7.30. I'm not sure I've been to sleep at 7.30 since I was about 6 years old.

As soon as I closed my eyes though, the alarm clock was wailing. It can't be that time already... It wasn't. It was 12 midnight, and I had set it wrong. Phew. I reset it, and went back to sleep, but all too soon it REALLY WAS 5.15am, and I was up and at them again. Another rollicking to the night shift pair from the Goddess of All Evil cheered me up, and despite a slow 2nd half to an otherwise distinct shift, I was running out the door again, to get to the 2nd leg of my cricketing weekend in good enough time.

Except, on arrival, there was no 2nd leg. I must have blinked at the wrong time, but apparently there was a downpour where we were playing, and the pitch was ruined. I was incensed. I had been looking forward to this for the whole day, imagining hitting some good runs on a usually good wicket, but I turned up and everyone was doing nothing. For some reason, we waited around for 2 hours waiting for it to dry, but obviously, to no avail. Whether we were waiting for the non-existent Sun's temperature to triple or a humungous hairdryer to apparate from thin air, I don't know, but those 2 hours were rather pointless. If the pitch was ruined, it was ruined. No U-turns.

So instead, we made our way back to The Bury, to try and enjoy the consolation prize of a net. We watched the 2nd XI's game, (which was going ahead despite having the same downpour...), and just mulled around. I would much rather have been playing in a proper game....

But, oh well. These things happen, and I am looking forward to departing for the pub quiz in about 15 minutes, where I will almost certainly devour my weekly chocolate fudge cake in style, and enjoy a not-so-winning effort, but where a laugh is had by all. I only have 1 shift at work next week, (before the weekend), albeit a night shift... I thought I had got rid of those damn things...

By the way, as mentioned earlier, the Mittenmobile is up for sale. £795.. A price set by the ever-ambitious and optimistic Father Mitten. Anyone interested....? You must be mad.