Not a morning person

What happens when an early riser no longer has to get up?

Chances of me seeing the sunrising over Portobello beach any time soon? Zero.

I used to be a morning person. Actually, let me rephrase that. I used to be a person who got up really early every weekday morning. It is, it turns out, very much not the same thing.

The alarm would go off at 6.30am, at the latest, Monday-Friday. And, without fail, without even thinking, (without really even waking!), I would stumble out of bed and into the bathroom, where I would wash, dress in the uniform I’d devised to avoid losing 30 minutes every morning trying and failing to decide what to wear, slap on cursory makeup (praise be for hair that renders brushing pointless) and go. I usually allowed 30 minutes but on a good day I could do bed-to-back-door (the door closest to the station) in under 20. If I speed-walked I might make the 7.05am train to London. Other…