The new rave?
I was on an overnight duty at the charity last night.
11pm 'til 5am, baby. After a full day at work which had been followed by drinks and a catch up with my friend, B. I think it's fairly safe to say that at 5.45 am this morning (when the duty actually finished, thanks to a caller who rang at 4.58am) I looked not like death but like a piece of chewing gum stuck on the sole of death's shoe. Fairly grim is a semi accurate description. Dead witch is more accurate.
I then took it upon myself to go to Tesco. That's just how I roll.
It wasn't until I was driving home, Gregor Tresher's 'A Thousand Nights' blaring at ear-splitting volume in order to keep my eyes open, that it dawned on me.
A year ago at 5.45am I would have been crawling home from a nightclub, still raring to go. Get in to the house, tiptoeing so as not to wake housemates. Gin and tonic. C on the decks. Fighting sleep until at least 11pm. Squeezing as much out of the weekend as possible. More drink. Comedy DVDs. Duvet. Party party party.
These days at 5.45am I'm buying ingredients to make Slimming World chicken tikka masala, having spent the night listening, encouraging and offering support to people who need it (and fending off calls from horny perverts).
Am I a grown up now?