As I lie there, awake, listening to the gentle breathing of MrsRRD sleeping next to me, I marvel at how precious is the time between first and second alarms. I have a whole 10 minutes, just to savour the quiet in the house.
Phil Collins shouldn't be here!! "In The Air Tonight" resounding around the room pulls me from my stupor, as I answer my phone from Control.
I am called to an RTC on the motorway, possibly fatal. I throw on my work clothes (thank goodness I am a slob, and I don't have to go into my cupboard for anything), kiss MrsRRD goodbye ("Did your phone ring?". "Go back to sleep.") and run down the stairs, thinking, Oh well, there goes my morning shower and ablutions.
The journey is easy today - kids off school, roads quiet, but I am stood down just as I approach. I decide that there is no time to return home, and I continue on to the hospital.
I stumble in to the Department, to various comments about the local bum turning up for work. This prompts me to a caffeine fix (well, NHS tea) and a decision to use the "value" razor I have in the office for just such an occasion.
There is no mirror in the loo, and I run the blade over my lathered face by feel, rather than sight. Ouch!! That's a small nick under the left nostril. Must remember to utilise the well-known haemostatic agent close at hand to that area when I'm done - wouldn't want to get any blood on my shirt before work!
I leave the makeshift bathroom, and go to my office for a 5-minute break. I have a mirror on the outside of my door (don't ask - it was there before I joined) and I look in horror at my ravaged face and my blood-spattered shirt. The blade has done a very nice job of removing all the stubble from my neck, along with most of the surface skin!! I look like a victim of the Barber of Seville!!!
Ok, regroup!! The blood on my shirt is only a few minutes old, and I know that washing in cold water will remove it. So, it's back to the loo, and, shirt off, I start the painstaking job of soaking and scrubbing the collar.
5 minutes later, and the shirt is clean, the flow of blood is (virtually) stemmed, and I am ready for work.
One problem - soaking wet shirt.
Another problem - meeting in 5 minutes.
Solution - wear shirt, put electric heater on, and make self-depreciatory comment about surgeons and blades!!!
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