I’m normally up at 5.30, 6.30 on weekends. Yes, that’s sad.
A few months ago I could get up, dressed, fed and caffeinated in the dazzling light of the sun, already high over the city. Then July gave way to August, and August gave way to September, and whilst I kept on waking up at the same time the Earth continued its imperceptible journey along its axis and the gravity well of the Sun, and the light grew dimmer and dimmer. Last week, for the first time, I had to turn the kitchen light on to avoid stumbling into the door jamb.
I always associated this part of the year with a sad Italian song about summers ending and growing up, but at least there’s a silver lining, because – by the time I get to drink my first cup of coffee of the day, this is the spectacle that unfolds out of my balcony. As far as silver linings go I know it’s only going to be temporary, for in a couple of weeks’ time I’ll be seeing it from the tube, and then from my office, but for the time being it’s alright.