Instinct is a strange thing. I am disturbed. The nights are short and having grown up in the tropics where night and day are equal throughout the year, I habitually wake at dawn. Mid summer approaches and for some weeks here in Britain it is has been light enough to walk in the countryside at 4am as well as at 10pm. Last year, living in the southern most part of France, nights were almost three hours longer, which suited me, for I only need seven hours sleep.
Here in rural England our resident blackbird sings his heart out early and I roll over, toss and turn and finding myself wide awake, rise. This is good for creativity, but surely not for a man with dodgy health. In Kenya where I spend my first 21 years, sunrise is rapid, twilight is 15 minutes long, and dawn shifts between 6 and 6.15, hence I've always been a six o'clock riser. I creep from bed so as not to disturb my wife who rarely rises before 7.30-8am. Come the evening she's asleep by 10.30-11, as I am too, for I can't sleep with noise.
That's the other problem, and the dear blackbird is indicative of it. Having grown up in a bedroom where deadly snakes slipped through the open rafters above my head as I slept, I am alert to the smallest sound. This was good when we lived in the centre of Plymouth city, for it alerted me to midnight muggers and I'd wake and rush into the park bordering our road to save innocent people from the same gang of thugs who got to know me and would flee with a hail of abuse.
We each have our problems and this is something, upon returning to England, I have to live with. It means I've become your proverbial afternoon napper. And I love the freshness of early morning. You feel as if the world was created for you for nobody else is about and it is sheer magic. Try it, but maybe a little later than 4.15!
By the way, I am seeking publisher for my latest little pocket book and if you have any leads, do email me.