The resident rooster of our hotel compound takes his job very seriously, and seems to be programmed at decreasing intervals. His first enthusiastic reveille is before 5:00 AM. Then he takes a wee power nap. I noted the second round at 5:20, and a third, slightly less robust version at 5:36. A weak 5:44 crow increased in volume over the next 7 minutes, seemingly roused to greater strength by competition of a neighboring rooster's call-out. 6:07 hears him still at it. And the sun hasn't yet kissed the morning air over Kilinochchi. My guess is that he keeps it up until daylight heeds his insistent call. Great. Just what I never knew I was missing: a rooster with an inspiring work ethic. Sigh.
But there is the lovely bed tea being served at 6:30 this morning, so I am thankful for his reminder that I have better things to do this fine morning than lay in bed tap-tapping on my phone a critique of the in-house wake-up performance.
We breakfast at 7:30, to leave promptly at 8:00, to give plenty of time for travel over a very rough road to our first of two eye clinics today. Bed tea is an addicting way to start the day - black tea, impeccably brewed strong but not to bitterness, with scalded milk and sugar on the side, and graciously presented as you see in the photo below (in which Pat is praying a prayer of thanks for bed tea.) Bonus: it is perfectly acceptable to partake of bed tea while wearing your lovely house dress. My first sip of bed tea even generates forgiving thoughts toward our rooster.
At 6:11, someone flipped a switch to begin the ambient birdsong for this morning. And the rooster continues still. To quote my exceedingly cheery mum's oft-repeated refrain on childhood mornings, 'Time to rise and shine!' (So glad to opt out of the historically accompanying flipping on of the overhead light.)