Firstly, thank you so much to Clara for that lovely blog spot. I feel most honoured, and all of a whatnot.
I don't do mornings. I'm not made that way. When I had to get to work or had children to get ready in the morning, I got on with it. It's amazing what you can do if you have to. But six in the morning doesn't like me and I don't like it. Midnight is fine! Bring it on! But today I was being interviewed on the breakfast show for Premier Radio, which meant getting out at seven and being at the studio for eight. (Yes, I know, lots of you do it every day, but my brain doesn't understand the concept of falling asleep before at least one in the morning.) I'd intended to go by train and taxi, which would have made it even earlier, but Tony offered to take me into town. Hero.
I was awake at six. I think I was probably awake at ten past and half past as well, but I've no idea what happened in between. At seven, we left the house. By 7.15 we were behind a big vehicle with caterpillar wheels and so big you could have transported a six bedroom house on the back and the garden and garage as well. Square wheels, my father would have said. It sort of lumbered, like a dinosaur on the prowl for small unwary animals. That stayed ahead of us all the way to Newcastle by which I didn't want to look at the clock any more. We got lost on the Quayside, Tony did a spectacular job of negotiating the one way system, we went to the wrong car park first, and stumbled into the studio gabbling apologies.
What followed was a stimulating and very enjoyable morning with John Pantry, the host. We talked about the importance of reading to children, and about bringing Bible stories to life, and all sorts of things. I hope I made sense. Tony, who was in the studio, said afterwards that I came over very well. I hope so. If I said anything really stupid, I'm going to blame sleep deprivation.