My radio-alarm clock goes off at 2.30am. It sits on top of some drawers on the other side of the bedroom, and it’s there for a good reason. I have to physically get up to turn it off. If it was next to my bed, I’d probably hit “snooze” for
Sometimes when the alarm goes off I roll out of bed and land on my hands and knees. I don’t know why I do that, it just happens. Then I stand up, walk over to the radio, and ask myself the same questions every morning.
“Why is my alarm going off? What am I doing today? Where am I supposed to be? Why? What? I don’t understand?”
I rub my eyes for about a minute or so until I remember what day it is and what I do for a living. Then I go downstairs. I walk into my 6-year-old’s room and sit on his bed. I pull up his duvet, tuck him in, stroke his hair and then I go into the bathroom. I ignore my hair. Sometimes I put it up. Sometimes I put on a hat. I splash water on my face and clean my teeth. Then I dress in whatever clothes I’ve laid out the night before.
I make a Moccona coffee in a takeout cup, I grab my handbag, jump in the car and then I drive the 30 minutes to work. I live on the coast so it’s a bit of a drive. I like it, though. It gives me time to think. I usually play loud music and sing all the way to the city.
Sometimes I arrive at work at the same time as Mike Hosking. He grimaces when he sees me. I’m not sure if he’s horrified that I drive a 10-year-old Subaru, or look as if I’ve spent three days living rough in the Waitakeres. Both, probably. Mike and his car are always immaculate.
I’m off-air at 6am and then I usually go for a run or to the gym. Then I shower, do my hair and makeup, change my clothes, put on some high heels and head out for breakfast. That’s me. Ready for the day.
Some people ask me if I get used to the hours and the answer is, no. Never. You never get used to a 2.30am alarm clock. But I love what I do and I guess I’m a morning person. I love mornings. They always come with so much hope and promise about what might happen in the day ahead.
