When I wake up, I follow a pretty consistent routine... My eyelids are peeled open by a bright-eyed three-year-old, expectantly waiting for me to bring the fun. I hear the obligatory "C'mon Dadda, it's morning time!" and curse my decision to have chosen the side of the bed closest to the door. I stagger to the bathroom to empty my middle-aged bladder and then we head to the kitchen for Weetabix. Whilst she's eating / dribbling half a gallon of milk into her lap, I hit play on Bohemian...