In one respect, and one respect only, worms are admirable creatures. The ability to grow a new half after being severed by a sharp object is obviously useful if you happen to be a worm. In the grand scheme of things though, it just means that worms are unlikely to die out as species. This may delight the worms, but I’m sure that the thrushes are even more delighted: the profusion of wriggly things that they can wrench out of the ground more or less guaranteed.
Worms are always out and about early in the morning (as are the thrushes). Personally I have never been overly enamoured with early starts. It’s all very well and good if you have something specifically enjoyable to get up for; like a day off, or collecting a lottery win. Apart from that they are an offence against the natural order of things. Getting up at the same time as everyone else just entails swearing at the cat and sweltering in traffic jams.
As far as I am concerned the onset of daylight is a fairly shocking experience. Galvanizing my sensitive constitution to movement, let alone effort, is a process which requires time. A gentle reintroduction to the world is what I require. A good hour or so spent refuelling on a fried breakfast, a newspaper, and a nice cup of tea, is what the British Empire was founded on.
All this grabbing a large latte from Starbucks and rushing to check out the Money Markets at 7.00 am is a profoundly misconceived practise. Arriving at 10.00 am, rested and sanguine, the late riser will obviously outpace the early riser in the speed of their mental functioning. All they have to do is make a few well rested trades and then they can consider the lunch options.
I don’t suppose I’d cope very well in the City, or Wall Street. The Belgravia Mansion and Condo in the Hamptons will always remain tantalisingly out of reach. Oh well, I can always console myself playing ‘Worms’ and congratulate myself on my freedom from the tyranny of the alarm clock.
Worms are always out and about early in the morning (as are the thrushes). Personally I have never been overly enamoured with early starts. It’s all very well and good if you have something specifically enjoyable to get up for; like a day off, or collecting a lottery win. Apart from that they are an offence against the natural order of things. Getting up at the same time as everyone else just entails swearing at the cat and sweltering in traffic jams.
As far as I am concerned the onset of daylight is a fairly shocking experience. Galvanizing my sensitive constitution to movement, let alone effort, is a process which requires time. A gentle reintroduction to the world is what I require. A good hour or so spent refuelling on a fried breakfast, a newspaper, and a nice cup of tea, is what the British Empire was founded on.
All this grabbing a large latte from Starbucks and rushing to check out the Money Markets at 7.00 am is a profoundly misconceived practise. Arriving at 10.00 am, rested and sanguine, the late riser will obviously outpace the early riser in the speed of their mental functioning. All they have to do is make a few well rested trades and then they can consider the lunch options.
I don’t suppose I’d cope very well in the City, or Wall Street. The Belgravia Mansion and Condo in the Hamptons will always remain tantalisingly out of reach. Oh well, I can always console myself playing ‘Worms’ and congratulate myself on my freedom from the tyranny of the alarm clock.
8 comments:
I bet the worms are very much looking forward to chomping their way through the alcohol and kebab flavour enhanced garfer!
Or are you going to beat them by cremation?
I,ve only had half a kebab you daft tit.
We need some more Phillip Larkin from the pen of the SID. I quite like Paul Muldoon, even if he's lost his horses.
We need more pissed people. You may be just the man (as long as you remember your piece].
SID may be feeding the worms later, once Mrs SID reads through his prose.
I like worms. My mother was always screaming at me to get them out of my mouth as a child.
Them and slugs.
"...the worms crawl in. the worms crawl out. they even play pinochle on your snout."
You mean the worms may be feeding on SID.
Indeed the alarm clock is a tyranical beast of the highest degree. Je detest mon alarm clock!
Unfortunately, these days my alarm comes in the form of a most beloved little creature that sprang forth from my loins. I really can't fuss at him too much when he is smiling and tells me, "Good morning, Momma."
30 extra minutes would be nice though...
well put.
btw, worms actually cannot grow a new half...just a bit of a part if they happen to get a little chunk nipped off.
you are safe.
I've taken the liberty of proving your point vis-a-vie late starts.
Typical working weekdays (and more often than not, weekends) I rise around 6.30 have a frantic s&s (I save the 3rd s for much later - better to poo on company time than your own). I feel angry, ill, frustrated and used.
I am currently engaged in week 1 of a 2 week break.
Today I rose at around 9.00am to feed small fools and then returned to bed where I stayed contemplating Uma Thurman until around 11.00am. I then had a light lunch, did some blogging and then retired for an afternoon nap. I have just this minute finished my shower and am mid-dressing - got the socks to go.
I feel spaced out and slightly depressed; but I know this is an improvement over the alternative.
Don't know why I bother with an alarm clock. The bin men always wake me up an hour before it rings.
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