People like routines. It’s just how people structure their everyday life. A couple of my friends go out for a walk every morning, rain or shine, at about 8 o’clock. It sets them up for the day. On those days when it’s too cold or really too wet and they have to stay inside, they get miserable, looking out of the window until the weather improves and they can put on strong shoes and go for the morning stroll. I admire that. 

First thing in the morning is my slow waking up time, which goes on until about 10 o’clock. After 10:00 I’m  ready to face the world. Before 10:00 everything just seems far too difficult. I used to hate going to work at 7 o’clock in the morning, especially in winter when it was dark, driving through narrow country lanes with an eye open for icy patches. 

I’d arrive at work and be faced with the jovial bonhomie of  colleagues who were early risers, happy to be up with the lark, and ready to face the challenges of the day, when all I wanted to do was grab a cup of coffee and be left alone. 

The 8 o’clock Monday morning meetings were a particular trial. Policy was made here, and everybody was expected to contribute. If, like me, you were still in a brain fog, you really didn’t have anything intelligent to say, which made you look stupid or unimaginative or perhaps not a team player.

Afternoons and the evening are a different matter altogether. By 2 o’clock I’m fully functional and continue going until about midnight. 

So my routine is a slow cup of coffee, catching up with the mail, having a look at the newspaper and generally seeing what’s going on in the world. After that, I’m ready to face the day. It’s my routine.

When we had a dog, getting up in the mornings was a mixture of chore and pleasure. I really enjoyed taking the dog out, even though it was bright and early, because of the companionship. I think it’s probably because the dog  didn’t talk. It listened patiently to anything I wanted to say, and even sometimes looked intelligently interested, but it didn’t argue or answer back or challenge my half baked ideas. I guess having a good dog structures your life for you, but it has to be taken out whether you like it or not.

But things change and you adapt to the life you now lead. These days I don’t have to go out to work and I’m free to spend as long as I like coming round with a cup of coffee. Nobody cares if I’m not washed and dressed by midday. Only my inner critic, who  speaks in my mother’s voice, quietly nags me that respectable people don’t slop around in their dressing gown half the morning, and wouldn’t I be ashamed if somebody came to the door and I had to open it when I wasn’t fully dressed. 

These days I find I’m not happy staying in all day, however creative I feel. These days I need to get out of the house otherwise I will go stir crazy. The walls close in and life becomes very oppressive, so that by 2 o’clock I’m desperate to get out either for a walk or a drive.

Partly, it’s about seeing people. I was brought up in a home where there was too much to do to waste time having coffee or tea with friends or inviting people round for supper. I can hear my mother’s voice now. Haven’t these people got anything better to do? It’s not as if their house is neat and tidy. The devil makes work for idle hands. 

That’s not really a very good way to bring up your children. You’re teaching them that other people don’t really matter and socialising isn’t important. We know that’s not true. We all need other people and having a good social life is important for everybody’s mental health, but these childhood traits run deep and become established habits that are very difficult to break. 

I like company but not all the time. I couldn’t be one of these people who has to go out for coffee with friends every morning. I’m generally very happy and comfortable with my own company but sometimes I too feel the need to meet kindred spirits. Again my childhood shapes my adult experience. if idleness is the devil’s thumbprint, work is the path to salvation and so when I need company or I’m tired of my own, I find a job.

I volunteer for a committee and throw myself into its activities. I enjoy doing that, especially if it involves problem-solving, but after a while, usually a couple of years, I find myself becoming oppressed by the expectations and the commitment, and have to move on. 

It’s one of my many shortcomings. I find it hard to relax if I have nothing to do, so my social contacts are usually for the work I choose to do .When it becomes oppressive, I can’t ease back and settle for friendship. I more or less give up, and discover later that I have not only given up for work but given up the friendships as well, and that’s not healthy. So I say to myself why don’t you do something about this, and, usually, the answer is I find another job.