It's All A Bit Of A Blur Really

My early morning regimen seldom changes. I am always, always woken by my clock radio. This is a buzzer- blasting, upchucking survivor from the seventies, all cream plastic casings, buttons the size of dominoes that have to be to fist-hammered to allow for a temporary alarm calling shut-up, or 'snooze,' and slide switches which require the finger strength of a stone mason to silence it completely. Outside temperature display sized stark red 'digital' numerals - which had just replaced those flip-over numbers - all variations on the early 8 theme, complete the travesty. I'd love to change this thing to something a little more modern - a touch swisher - a tad gentler on the ear-drum, slightly more aesthetically pleasing to the eye, a bit less heart poundingly stressful. I'd love to have a break from being shock and awed awake, bombed into nervy, jittery, bleary-eyed consciousness by hostilities, by a sound-meld of ship's fog horn and hammer drill. But it always does the job. So I hang on to it.