I've been struggling with the 6.15 alarm clock a bit over the last few weeks, often grogging back into collapsitude within an hour or so and not feeling together until about 10 am.
In fact, I've been so knackered of late I've had to go to bed before I came on the radio for me to cringe at on the last few Monday nights and have just checked what Alex Riley has been saying about me the next day (he was in the Crucible Youth Theatre both before and after I was apparently, as if he was hiding until I was safely out the way). That all ends tonight, like Summer did this weekend, until the inevitable reruns. We've pitched series 2 now, which may be a little different if it happens and ideas are queueing up nicely to be considered. We'll have to wait and see.
Today though, I felt terrific and full of beans and properly rested as the alarm went off at quarter past the Today programme. Good news. The feeling, not the Today programme
I've picked over a hundred apples of the tree, picked the last of my tomatoes (a peculiar mix of the big, the manky, the pathetic, the malformed, the perfect, the under and over-ripe, much like my No Tomatoes in that respect) and am preparing for a winter full of exciting mucus and thrillingly stung cheeks, stop that you.
"Summer's gone but a lot goes on in Autumn" as Saint Lenny very nearly says. Looking forward to it.