The marvellous thing about early morning rises is the chance to be abreast of world events and much, much more.
The 3am scream from the boy is nothing new. Neither is the game of musical rooms and beds.
Surprisingly I couldn’t get back to sleep. So from my cushion complex comfort zone on the floor, I listened into BBC World Service.
After a few hours of that I thought it best to start on the day, my birthday.
By the time everyone was up at about 9.15, I had views on the debacle in Pakistan in the wake of the Bhutto assassination and the allegedly rigged polls in Kenya. I’d also absorbed a feature on the ineffectiveness of New Year’s resolutions.
And through surfing the internet I’d managed to find some help on converting tracks from my Itunes library into an MP3 format so they could be transferred onto the MP3 player I’d acquired for my eldest.
I followed the instructions and deposited the 30-odd songs selected by the eight-year old.
What a hip cat.
But as one of the World Service programmes was suggesting the internet and interactivity is changing the rules of modern journalism.
People are blogging. Really?
By the time I’d laid on breakfast for the brood the only thing to do was to retire to bed but then the boy decided to join me and I guess I was back to square one.