Morning routine

In theory, yes; in practice, I hit the snooze button three times. I admire those people who are out jogging round the lake at five, but I've accepted that I'm not one of them. On a working day my alarm goes off at six fifteen. I stumble to the kitchen, put the kettle on, and make a phin coffee, which drips so slowly that it forces me to stand still for five minutes; that's the closest I get to meditation. Then it's a quick shower, a banh mi from the cart at the corner, and forty minutes on the motorbike to my office in District 7. School mornings were much harsher. Class started at a quarter to seven, so my mother got me up at half past five, and in winter she'd warm my uniform on the rice cooker to coax me out of bed. I thought it was cruel; now I think it was rather sweet. If I could change one thing, I'd stop checking my phone before I'm even upright. Reading work messages with one eye open is no way to start the day.