I wake up most days at 5.30am.
I throw on some clothes as silently as I can, being careful not to disturb my partner.
I fill our cat Arthur’s food bowl, then gaze out of the kitchen window into the garden as the kettle boils for tea, watching robins and great tits get their breakfast at our bird feeders.
Next, it’s puzzle time with ITV’s Good Morning Britain starting in the background.
I begin with Wordle, then the New York Times’ Spelling Bee, Strands, Connections and Letter Boxed, then Worldle, Metro’s Word Wheel and The Times’ Polygon and Concise Crossword.
Puzzles (hopefully) completed, I go for a walk, maybe taking in a beautiful local park, perhaps admiring some wonderful architecture and street art I see every day, but never tire of, while playing another game: Trying to identify breeds of dogs on their dawn walks.
I love the peace, quiet and sense of space I can only enjoy early in the morning. After almost nine years of living with a talkative partner, when we both also work from home, this solo routine has become precious ‘me time’.
Back home, half an hour later, I crack on with admin, emails or start work early. I’ve ticked all this off by 8am.
I never used to be like this. If you’d told me a year ago this would be my daily routine, I’d have laughed in your face. In fact, I built my career on being a night owl.
I became a music journalist in the mid-90s at the height of Britpop. My job dictated I carouse around London into the early hours at gig afterparties, as that’s where I got my scoops.
Being up late came naturally, and I relished stalking the nightlife underbellies of Soho or Camden Town, landing stories.
In the 2000s, I began working in radio music news. I once went straight to an early shift at BBC 6 Music, having stayed out all night with much-missed Motorhead frontman Lemmy at a burlesque club.
I immediately went on air to read my bulletin – and my exclusive story.
I worked on Fleet Street showbiz news into the 2010s, and late-night parties were fertile hunting grounds for celebrity gossip.
Even recently, being a night owl was very much part of my identity.
A couple of years ago, I posted a picture on Instagram at 9am after I’d been to the doctor’s and it prompted one of my oldest friends to ask if I’d been diagnosed with something horrible. Otherwise, why would I accept an appointment that early?
Fast forward to now: I am writing this at 6:30am, having been up since 5am.
So what changed?
Last November, a disc in my spine prolapsed and trapped a nerve, causing horrific pain. The kind of agony that makes you pass out or throw up. Some nights, I couldn’t sleep at all and retreated to the sofa so as not to wake my partner.
If I dropped off, I’d often wake in the early hours in misery as the painkillers wore off and I couldn’t get back to sleep.
I’ve had chronic back problems for years, but this was a different level.
Ultrasound steroid spinal injections coupled with physio and exercise, however, have helped hugely, and the pain is back to a manageable level.
But I’m still waking up about three hours earlier than I used to. Previously, I’d get up at 8:30am for my 30-step commute from my bedroom to the living room, before starting work at 9am. On weekends, I was never up before 10am.
Lack of sleep aside (I still go to bed at the same time around midnight), I do enjoy my new morning routine and love feeling like I’ve stolen a march on my day.
I don’t regret not waking up earlier for years though – I need as much beauty sleep as I can get – and my late-night film-loving partner remains unconvinced about dawn rising.
Apparently, people fall into two ‘chronotypes’ – early birds or night owls – which dictate our circadian rhythms.
Research has found we’re genetically programmed to either favour going to bed at a reasonable time, then waking with the lark to seize the day, or prefer staying up into the early hours and dragging ourselves reluctantly from our pit in time for brunch.
I was always in the latter camp.
But along with discovering I was 89% Irish, 7% Scottish and only 4% English (I’m adopted, so this was new information), a DNA test surprisingly revealed that I was destined to be a morning person all along.
And I’ve discovered there are measurable upsides to my newfound identity as a lark.
The mental and physical health benefits of my morning walk are obvious, as I feel great afterwards. Solving puzzles is also believed to sharpen logic and have the same calming effect as meditation, something I’ve never been able to do.
Plus, I’m getting more work done.
So I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I am now an early riser and am not hating it half as much as I thought I would.
After years of being a night owl, I’ve changed my mind – perhaps the early bird really does catch the worm.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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