The worlds a different place at five in the morning. Peaceful and quiet with just some early traces of birdsong but it doesn't take long for the seagulls to begin the racket that takes them through the day and well into the night. They simply have no respect for anything but themselves, noisy blighters. I slept badly last night, something to do with dodgy breathing and knowing I was getting up to drive to work to give a paper on creative writing and doctoral research and I suspect no one will come to it. Its out annual research week so it will be good to catch up with some colleagues outside my own department. In the meantime I will listen to this on the drive in, to set myself up for the day. I remember this from the film, Truly, Madly, Deeply which I enjoyed at the time, poor Anthony Minghella (Dir), we shared a love of The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje.
