Something had happened during the night. I had slept reasonably well and moderately badly. There was no storm outside. When I finally gave in to waking, I heard the sweet sounds of birds. My wife remained in the guise of sleep until I nudged her awake.
“A cup of tea?”
Some response came back throught her treacly rise from dreams. I took that as a positive response so I descended the stairs, stroked the cat (who is still recovering from being knocked down by some arsehole driver) and made for the kettle. The sweetness of the morning suffused with the steam that was beginning to build.
The bedroom was still in semi-darkness when I returned with the good news that I had not split the teabags (apparently teabag makers are now not putting plastic into their bags as a way of saving the environment). I had never before known of the plastic and had continued to manhandle the tea-to-be with excessive force, leaving a mush of tea leaves in the bottom of the mugs. Perhaps I should have tried to read them.
There must have been a point when my wife pointed out that I had turned into a vampire during the night. I decided to leave the curtains closed.