Ways to see the sunrise, #435 *

As those of us in the northern hemisphere have recently been finding (to the detriment of our photography), the sunrise is now too early for sane people in civilised areas of the country to see it at all. But such a profusion of fiery colours, present only for a fleeting instant, deserve a little special effort, and I hereby present a foolproof method of ensuring one sees the early morning glory of the sky.

Step 1. Drive approximately 99 miles in a southerly direction during the afternoon rush hour, avoiding any obstacles (such as lorries, or roundabouts) that you happen to encounter.

Step 2. Stand aimlessly in a street, enjoying the pleasantly warm evening sunshine, until a shout of POTATO causes the untimely death from shock of a bystander whose only crime was to be chaining her bicycle up nearby.

Step 3. Attempt to hug Keppet. This may or may not work, depending on how much of a rush for cocktails she is in.

Step 4. Proceed directly to cocktail bar (do not get run over by bike, do not collect £200 unless you really think 57 cocktails would be a good idea). Establish which seats you sat in last year and which cocktails you ordered; then proceed to sit in same seats and place a somewhat similar order.

Step 5. Drink; talk; giggle. Scare entire clientele and indeed bar staff away. Take photos while nobody's looking.

(Step 5, cont). Have another drink each. Become psychic. Get surprised by own reflection in mirror. Exit bar when cocktails return to full price at 8pm.

Step 6. Take/get taken on nostalgic walking tour of Oxford city centre, complete with such gems of knowledge as "that cash machine used to give £5 notes."

Step 7. Walk towards train station in search of curry. Fail to find any, return towards town and settle for Thai. Restrain amusement at odd customers. Take seats, play with napkins and flowers, allow Keppet to choose your food (this works surprisingly well).

Step 8. Laugh at Keppet eating rice because you are by now in a mood to laugh at pretty much anything. Eat first portion of food voraciously. Then develop either stomach ache or sudden exhaustion and leave at least half of your meal.

Step 9. Declare yourself the Bubble Master. (Only one of you, however, may hold this title.)

Step 10. Determine success of entire meal on appearance of mint imperials with the bill. Take the only action possible in such circumstances.

Step 11. Remove to a location approximately 2 miles north-east, sit on bed or chair and chat. Be alert for possibilities to insert the word 'akimbo' into the conversation. Express self through restlessness of feet, higher brain functions having now shut down.

Step 12. Eventually realise the inexorable nature of time's onward progress, and occupy yourself with arranging a sleeping bag on the floor or complaining about how the duvet on the bed won’t stay tucked in. Converse a little through toothpaste.

Step 13. Sleep. Ahh, sleep.

Step 14. Continue sleeping through the alarm, since alarms are well known for making you do things you don't want to do. Surface to consciousness instead at the sound of Keppet’s voice telling you it's 5am, since this is an unusual inclusion in your early morning routine.

Step 15. Flood the en-suite through inexpert usage of the shower curtain.

Step 16. Pack bags, with audience watching. Let audience inform you how much she has in common with a giant fusion reaction in space, and nod sagely. Claim portion of bed on which to leave crumbs.

Step 17. Depart tearfully (but hiding it well). Admire the lightening of the eastern sky.

(Step 17, cont). Spend several minutes persuading the dew to stop settling on your windscreen. Drive north, out of town.

Step 18. Ta-da!

(Step 19. Perform return 99-mile journey and go to work.)

* I recognise that there are many rather simpler ways to achieve this goal.