OVERSLEPT

My eyes sprang open. Too light! Awake! Clock? No! Time! In the microsecond between sleep and reality, my mind had been dragged rudely through the wormhole, sucked out of sleep and dumped squarely into Tuesday morning. I was wide awake... and late.

Moments before, on the other side, I'd been at a concert. My friend Christina (whom I haven't seen in a long time) had climbed onto the stage and was singing a capella to a spellbound audience. She was magnificent, rolling through the poignant lyrics with pitch-perfect emotion and style.

Emotion and style of course, are two words you definitely can't use to describe a person getting showered and dressed in under three minutes. My hair was sticking out like springs and I'd put my watch on upside down. With jumper ruckled over yesterday's jeans, I shot out into the cool morning air, slipping into my coat as I sprinted down the road.

The thing about a day that starts abruptly is that it takes the rest of it to recover. Everything is lagging behind. I've tried to stop my head spinning and my heart pumping. I just spent about two minutes rubbing my eyes: glasses perched up on my forehead, fists boring into my eye-sockets, trying to rub out the sleepiness. Everything's gone bright and swirly.

Then there's the 'professional' appearance. I've calmed my hair down a bit but it still feels dry and springy. My skin feels soap-cracked and my eyes are hot and irritated. I feel like a gruesome cartoon of myself, a kind of crazed, dishevelled maniac - an image which was wearily confirmed by the wiry reflection in the gents'... although to be fair, he did have his jumper on backwards.