Morning: Ian gets up with his father at 7. I often don't wake when he gets up but generally stir at about a quarter to eight and get up soon after eight. For those of you who are hating me now, I would just like to say that I have served my time with children whose day started cheerily at 5 and with work demanding I leave the house at 6.15. One of the great things about working for myself and no longer dancing to the salary man's tune is that I can go with my own body clock, and my clock says nothing should happen before 7 and that somewhere around 8 to 8.30 is when I should be starting the day.
And then morning between 10 and 12 is firing on all cylinders time, doing the tricky things, setting up the challenging spreadsheet, putting in the tax return, nailing the impossible.
Lunchtime for me should be about 1 but is generally earlier because FIL is definitely ready for a sandwich around 12 and by 1 is up for slitting his wrists or making his own. We compromise, generally, a bit, closer to the early end.
Afternoons are for the long haul stuff: the weeding, the report writing, the making of bread, the odd brief interlude hiding in the wooden greenhouse crushing the leaf of a scented geranium and watching the hens scratch.
Evening meals happen a bit early, again the inevitable result of compromise. FIL would have eaten at 5. I would settle for 7ish. Mostly that means a 6 to 6.30 meal where the downside is not being quite hungry enough and the upside is a gloriously long evening. Especially in summer this is wonderful.
Bedtime: FIL: 10.10. Ian: varying, can be early, can be startlingly late. Me: ideally about 11.30 but sometimes that means, as now, that I am the only one up.
Such a strange thing. Surely what really matters is temperament, intelligence, empathy, kindness, wit and edge? And yet how much of life is governed by basic things. When you do you want to sleep? When you do want to eat?
Is this just me?