Orange Juice Blues

I have decided, after this many years on the planet, living in ignorance, that I finally understand the importance of a morning routine.

Now, I have long since come to terms with the fact that I will never again function at full capacity if, for some reason, I do not get a cup of tea in the morning. Ok, so maybe it's not as cool as those who need three cups of black coffee before motor functions kick in, but each to their own.

This for many years was, unfortunately, all I had in terms of the morning routine; probably something to do with the truly unpredictable fluctuation of my wake-up time.

However, the more I try to stabilise my daily process the more I'm discovering just what it is that gets me up and about, and, remarkably, what sets the tone for the rest of my day. Now, this is by no means regular yet, but if I've found that if I hit the following checklist then I seem to be on a lovely trajectory upwards for the succeeding hours until I go to bed.

1) For the ungluing of the eyelids: As well as a cup of tea, a glass of orange juice has become essential. Vitamin C rocks my world.

2) For the clearing of the haze: A walk to the shop - this ticks off purchasing a pastry item for breakfast and a paper, it also gives me the fresh air so dangerously lacking in the stench vacuum that is my room.

3) For getting the nervous system fizzing: After a shower, frustrate myself by attempting to check emails on the most erratic internet connection you can imagine (It's also the most pedantic connection as it won't suffice in just giving me the 'Could not open page' message but will make a big song and dance of pretending it's trying its best, leading to a stalemate in which I am always the one who gives up first). NB: This will often lead to indecent exposure toward any unsuspecting (well, the first few times, now it's a given) neighbours as I jump up furious, inevitably dropping my towel, flashing my junk for all the borough to see.

4) For human contact: Wake up my flatmate who works evenings and won't open his eyes until he's brought a cup of coffee (3 spoons 3 sugars) and a cigarette. He then goes about his own routine. NB: 'Human' is a very relative term.

After this, I am ready to face whatever the day has to not so much throw as fling at me like an ape in a cage (this is truly the state of my relationship with life)

Now, all I need to do is work on making this habit. Tomorrow will be better I swear.

Q: What do JFK, Area 51 and Ian Tomlinson all have in common?

A: ‘A senior police officer who investigated the death of Ian Tomlinson told his family that the officer who struck him at the G20 demonstrations could have been a member of the public “dressed in police uniform”, it emerged last night.’ (The Guardian)

Well, thank goodness for that. There I was going about worrying our police force had descended into an armed mob of thugs who wouldn’t know a human rights violation if it violated them right in the pills, for no reason at all.

Now I find out that it may well have been a member of the public masquerading as a police officer (armed with baton, full uniform and restraining techniques). Phew! What a load off.

Of course that makes sense, I mean, well, I’ve come to expect behaviour like that from we proletariat. And it is the oldest trick in the book after all - the famous ‘protest-in-a-rented-uniform-batter-an-innocent-news-vendor-to-death-and-use-it-as-a-means-to-expose-brutality-amongst-our-law-enforcement-agents-whilst-ignoring-the-small-matter-of-it-being-a-peaceful-protest-against-the-G20-summit-in-which-the-police-were-not-expected-to-have-any-major-involvement’ routine. A timeless classic. My faith in the uniform of the law is suitably restored.

But wait. If the conspiracy stretches this far, then surely it could be more convoluted than we initially anticipated. What if this wicked protester worked his way into the force from an early age, an undercover activist whose designs were leading always to the day of the G20 protests?

In fact, maybe there was no real Tomlinson at all and this was all an elaborate set-up. What if he and his grieving family members are actually just actors in on the whole charade?

Or what if it goes higher than that? What if there was no protest at all and this is one big media contrivance designed for the purposes of a huge exposé?

Good lord! What if we’ve got it all wrong and it really is the police force’s fault, the offending agent actually a police officer posturing as a citizen dressed as a policeman?!

…my god. Perhaps this is just a horrible dream and we’re actually all fabrications of a supermarket till worker asleep at the checkout?

Or worst of all, what if it’s not a dream at all? What if an everyday junior police officer, with very little training in crowd control at all, panicked and hit a man exceptionally hard during a peaceful protest?

What if, eh? What if…