It's not quite 5am. I'm already out of bed and sinking my first of many cups of tea for today. Celeste remains in La-la-land, giving me some rare morning time alone. I would normally be fast asleep but instead I've opened up the sash window as high as it will go: my computer and I sit before it. Up here on the hill, I have a spectacular view over Weston-super-Mare, the sky is turning pink and all I can hear (apart from the clacking of my keyboard) is the sound of birds.
Now, I can't tell you which birds these might be: I'm just a social historian, my brother is the ornithologist, and I know that he's at work right now, doing surveys on this or that species. But, whichever of our feathered friends they are, they sure sound pretty. This pleasant dawn chorus got me thinking about the DAB radio station, Birdsong, which has finally gone off air - I never tuned in because, to me, everything has its place. And THIS is it.
Before me, I can see Uphill, St Nicholas Church standing splendidly upon it, and to the left, Brent Knoll. The woods are behind me (the steps run along the side of the house) and the beach is to my right, though this is concealed from view by a big bloody tree that I would very much like to take a chainsaw to. It's such a glorious day - going to be another hottie - that I'm seriously contemplating swapping Tikkabilla and Teletubbies on CBeebies for snails and fairies up Weston Woods. This will probably confuse the sweet little head off Celeste but she has to learn early on that spontaneity is key.
Yes the woods, what a good idea! Shall I go and wake her up?
One more cup of tea ....