I don’t like alarm clocks. Waking to manic beeping or ringing is, apropos our primitive selves, surely a sign we are waking to Trouble? Even the name – alarm – is wrong, wrong, wrong…
And so mine is set to radio. Formerly, this was R4 until I realised James Naughtie arguing with politicians (or, if I overslept, the platitudes of Thought for the Day) creeping into my dreams was no better a start than beep, beep, beeeeeeeep. It made me argumentative.
Now I wake to R3 but it’s hit and miss. My preference is for piano, with my least favourite the noisy brass band hammering out a rabble-rousing number.
This morning it was Elgar’s Salut d’amour which has surpassed all wake-up numbers to date – luring me from sleep kindly, willingly and with a smile.
In fact, I’d happily tolerate waking to this beautiful piece every day… make it so, schedulers, make it so!