The body clock did its trick again and would have to be watched as we progressed westwards if I was going to avoid arising at some ungodly hour.
In that regard, I mused as the consciousness kicked in, the Red Service may have been a better option as far as meal times go.
Dinner after Adelaide was going to be late and if the diurnal rhythms were going to be maintained, I suspected something would end up having to give.
That's the sort of thing you ponder when you're wide awake, the sun hasn't deigned to appear, and any attempt to sit up is going to cause a collision between your scone and the overhead bunk.
Still, as the time worked its way towards the sunrise, we had the prospect of an early morning tea.
The train pulls into Broken Hill around six-forty CST.
We'd been warned to adjust watches and other chronometric devices before we retired for the night.
I wasn't sure how to do this with the semi-flash new mobile, so I was still in EST when we arrived.