Lazily, I open my eyes and look out of my low bedroom window. The blinds are raised. I like it that way. There are fields and trees outside, and it's a nice view from my bed. I can see the trees waving around in the wind. It was a rotten summer, now it's an even worse autumn. Wet, blustery and damn cold. It's only the middle of October and it was a measly five degrees yesterday. The coldest October for fifty three years or something. I really don't want to, but I force my protesting body out of bed and drag my comfy, black boy-shorts and skinny jeans on. I sit on the bed yawning and shivering with the cold. Goosebumps are breaking out all over me. Is there any worse experience than getting out of a lovely, warm, comfortable bed on a cold morning? If there is I haven't found it yet. I'm not a morning girl. Never have been. But lately it's been a nightmare getting up. I feel dreadful, so sluggish and sickly. And my head throbs every morning, like I've been on the booze all night. I seem be turning into a nocturnal creature, because I'm at my best of an evening and night.
