So, with gum shields in place (the over priced Harley St dentist, recommended to me by a fellow colleague, assures me they work and warrant the premium charged for this whitening experience), alarm set to 5am and second alarm set to 505am, I am in bed at the grand hour of 830pm. I have missed an alarm twice in twelve years but the idea of it still fills me with dread, well that and the fact it is a trading floor rule that you buy everyone on the floor breakfast if you miss the market open, not to be sniffed at in light of the current economic environment and taking into account some of the gluttonous appetites that exist on the floor. Back to my childish hour of slumber, 830pm I hear you whisper, only those in the hub of the frenetic equities trading world will understand this, the need to grasp every chance of an early night with open arms and embrace it. Its monday, an absolute no-go for client events (unless it is the 6 week lead up to Christmas), a confirmed gym night and an early to bed night..... and as it currently stands a 'sans alcohol' night (the reality of lying to the doctor for the past decade, re: my units consumed per wk, has set in, and i'm now trying to stick to Monday-Weds free of any booze).  Originally, I planned to include Thursday, but as almost everyone knows, this is the City's Friday, so being alcohol exempt is highly unlikely.

Vaguely distracted, I can hear the faint laughter of people outside, they have a social life on a MONDAY???... 'freaks' I mouth (i find myself frowning with contempt but then realise it is creating furrowed lines in my brow that will only necessitate my need for Botox, so I put on my best 'expressionless' face and get ready to watch the last of Eastenders (I have a macabre fascination with it's relentless gloom and the characters that are stooped in domesticity and despair).

My clothes are laid out (i've always chosen them the night before, as the tiredness and inability to make decisive choices at 5am can be potentially dangerous to one's attire)... my handbag has been changed to match my outfit and an essential duo of flat shoes and 5 inch heels have been placed by the door (flats to walk to the station, but heels are a 'must' in the office and at client events).  The City girl's uniform of black resonates throughout my choices for the day ahead. And now it is lights out (it it is 845pm and loaded with Nytol I reach for the standby button).

Goodnight

Miss McArbitrage