Meanwhile : Articles written by Simon Jones

It’s still dark outside when my Nokia phone begins dutifully performing the programmed task of dragging me out of dreamland with its intensely annoying alarm.

At first I am not entirely sure what the hell is happening. Seven thirty AM is not something my body is used to. The alarm gets louder with every passing second, forcing me to eventually lean out of bed and give the little bleeping bastard some attention.

Snooze.

There you go, that’s fixed the problem. I can now retreat back into the land of nod, back to the sun kissed beach of beautiful bikini clad women all clamoring for my attention. And if that wasn’t what I was dreaming of before, that’s what I shall dream about now.

Three minutes pass, the bikini wearing beach babes have hardly made an appearance before my girlfriend’s voice starts telling me it’s time to get up. Not just once though, she tells me this over and over and over again. The same sentence repeated with digital precision.
“Good morning DTM (a nickname), time to get up. Good morning DTM, time to get up.”

The reason for her repetitive accuracy is that her voice is indeed digital. Recorded into the bedside clock she bought me as a Christmas gift. And because I have no idea how to silence her repeating message, I let her carry on, safe in the knowledge that she will only persist for exactly one minute.

Peace again. I can now return to my morning thong wearing beauties on that sun drenched beach. The sea is the color of an angels eyes, palm trees grow at impossible angles by the shore, the only sounds are the hypnotic rhythm of waves and… A distant beeping that seems to be getting louder and louder? What?

Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep. My watch reminds me that not only am I not on a beach in paradise, but I am also going to be late if I don’t get up and enter into the real world very soon. Seconds later the Nokia wakes from its snooze. Bleep, bleep, bleep, bleep… My stereo downstairs switches on and starts blaring the chirpy tones of some morning DJ who has been awake way too long already. My home phone starts ringing,
“This is your wake up call, it’s seven thirty five AM.”
It would seem as if all hell has broken loose. Paradise is far away now.

Ordinarily I wouldn’t get up at such a bloody awful hour. But today is… [Click here to continue reading this article at ‘Meanwhile’]