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For many years, the first thing I did every morning was pour myself a large cup of coffee and switch on the news. It became part of the rhythm of the day. Hank understood it too. Coffee first, news second, and the moment the mug was empty, it was time for walkies. Dogs are remarkably good at learning the parts of our routines that involve them.
Recently, though, I have confused him. The coffee remains, because I am not sure that particular habit is ever going anywhere, but the television stays off. It was not a dramatic decision; I simply realised that starting every morning with the news was beginning to affect me.
Recently, the relentless accumulation of bad news has begun to feel particularly heavy. Wars, fires, political turmoil and human suffering seem to arrive one headline after another, often before I have properly absorbed the previous one.
After a while, I noticed that I was beginning almost every day feeling jaded before the day had even begun. So I changed the routine. The coffee remained. Hank’s walk remained. But the news could wait.
Strangely, that small change has made me think about one of the strangest books in the Bible.
Revelation.
