The alarm blares at 7.30am (a bit earlier in summer, a bit later in winter). Stumble out of a warm bed, struggling into sheepskin slippers and pulling on skirt and jumper over nightclothes. Wiping sleep from eyes, shaking dreams from head, mumbling about not being a morning person, down the stairs to the kitchen where cats wait expectantly.
Slippers off, wellies on. Out into the shock of cold morning air, carrying chicken food, goose food, guinea pig food. Cats weaving through legs, splash or slide or walk (depending on weather) downhill to the greenhouse. Guinea pig is fed and watered, and the chicken drinker retrieved from its overnight frost free haven. Next, chickens are liberated from the hen house and eagerly cluster round their food. On down into the goose run. The geese run honking up the hill from their shed, gratefully flapping their wings in the freedom of fresh air.
All the while, Bear and Marley chase and tumble, darting up trees and pouncing on each other. Tigger sits in quiet, solitary dignity at the top of the steps, glaring as she concentrates on beaming out the psychic message: 'Cat food now. Cat food now.'.
Then it is back to the house, where Tigger vocally demands Cat Food Now!!!. And is rewarded with a bowlful of her own, as are the other two.
Cereal for me. Shower for me. Clothes for me.
The day has begun.