Showing posts with label Sleep. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sleep. Show all posts

Sunday 16 January 2022

Slow Sabbath

 

Not the best Sunday today.
The morning was OK, I was given a lift to Kirk, and there most things went well.  I spoke to all those I needed to, whether they needed to speak to me was not asked.  Normal behaviour from the congregation, a four year old 'Power Ranger' attacked me till his Grannie saw him off, pretty girls (the term 'girls' can be stretched a bit here) surrounded me, some spoke of their or their families problems, others wondered where this person or that one had disappeared too, and a group of men discussed 'mens stuff' and worried that the local team was now bottom of the division and the manager about to get shoved out.  Normal serious discussions.  
However, that was fine, a lift home also fine, dinner imitation Forfar Bridie and beans. Now I find I cannot take a picture of the moon correctly.  The camera must be bust!
Now music problems, loud, just too loud for someone in that room below, clearly done to annoy but I cannot see why.  She is female and therfore who knows why she plays such bad music, and it is terrible music, loudly.  Is there a reason?  Why not say what it is?  The landlord may know soon.
Football not great, tea not great, my need for sleep great.  I kept waking every hour last night.  This enables me to remember part of the dreams I was having but is a bit of a pest just the same.  Nice colourful but absurd dreams I have, a result of a twisted mind I say.
I think I may go off early and find some more...
 

Monday 27 December 2021

Tired Monday

 
This is me today.
Total wipeout.  Not able to stay awake all day.  Even a lunchtime snooze is not enough to lift this tiredness.  I suspect the apple crumble, large lunch, roast potatoes and sliver of whisky may play a part in this.  
Too much running around in the days prior to Christmas, no energy left to make the most of the whisky gifts now available to me.  Instead I stare at pictures of far off lands Live on the screen.  Railways in the USA, watering holes in various parts of Africa, some in hot sunshine, some in heavy downpours.  The online pictures from various parts of the world, Live and free, can be interesting, especially if you like Zebras, railways or ocean spray thundering against the shoreline. Such simple pleasures were all I could manage today.
I may enliven myself with some er, gifts tonight.

Saturday 4 December 2021

Slumber

So I went to sleep.
I placed my head on the pillow, pulled the blankets up over my head and sought slumber.
By quarter part midnight, or one and a half hours later, I was awake.  
Soon sleep returned.
Then an hour later I woke, my right arm indicating pain, I turned over.
Fortyfive minutes later Iwas awake, I could not breathe, no air.  Window opened slightly to the cold fog outside and I dozed again.
Thirty minutes later I had to turn over again.  
My left leg hurt, pain in the thigh turn back again.
An hour later a slammed door as neighbours mate left for home woke me, and I think half the town also.
I was tired enough to soon return to sleep. 
Then a headache woke me.
Soon it was once again sleep.
Then the arm again gave pain so it was turn over time.
By 3:45 am I was again awake,the other leg had decided cramp was in order.
Sleep.
Five minutes past four and it's off to the loo.
No sleep.
Turn this way and that.
Listen to radio iplayer.
No sleep.
Radio off.
Thoughts crowd in, all bad.
The world and my faults pile up in front off me.
No sleep.
Radio again, nothing worth listening to.
No sleep.
It is five am, the street lights have come on again.
No sleep.
The radio bores me, music does not fit the mood, worries about the day ahead, all false, pile in.
The radio drones on, men crossing the Sahara desert for fun!
Suddenly it is five past six in the morning, cars move about outside.
I cannot return to sleep.
More radio.
Turn this way, that hurts, turn that way, that hurts.
Almost seven in the morning.
No chance of sleep now.
I glance at clock it says 7:48!!!
I attempt to rise.
I glance at clock, it says 8:17!!...
I rise, and for some reason are grumpy all day...

Tuesday 4 August 2020

Tuesday Scream!




I slept badly.
Awake every hour or near enough.
Too hot, too cold, too tired, too awake, on and on it went.
I stumbled up around 7 am, scampered unwillingly to Sainsburys masked like a bank robber, though they usually are not struggling to breathe or blinded by steam on the glasses.  Hurried back to find the laptop dying.
The adaptor wire helpfully broke meaning no power was entering and the battery was soon running out.
This meant a struggle to find a replacement, and an even greater struggle to get the old laptop, slow and difficult, to work.
By means of EBay I may have a replacement arriving soon...maybe, if it is the right one. Until then I must make do with this useless old one.



Herein the day got worse.
Not having been used since my failed Linux experiment naturally the beast was in a huff.
Nothing would work.
Eventually it worked but everything had to begin again.
Everything slowly, oh soooo sloooowly began to begin again.
It was at this point I remembered how sailors swore...
All day I played with browsers, downloaded, slowly, the required items, slowly got them to work slowly and often suggested to Toshiba what they could do with this laptop.  They did not answer.
By afternoon I not only had much of it working I even found the cricket, which I canny watch as I am watching things appear, often uninvited, onto the screen.  
Tired, weary, unable to sleep it off as I expected the workmen to knock and the postie to bring a packet.
She arrived eventually, just on one O'clock.  As she now works only three days she can survive the system, it is however not a good one.  Poor women needs an easy round, this once was, I did it myself, but changes, absurd changes, make the posties life hard.  Management, driven by paper wielding  non-posties in offices far away do not provide a service as in days of yore.   Blood from stone Tory style instead.  We must all expect more such work practices to abound under this government.


Now I comprehend that a Syrian women, endangered in a Turkish tented refugee camp with her children while her man abandons her to make his way to fame and fortune in Europe has more reasons to scream than I have.  I really do understand.  However, early this morning I was not understanding much, least of all how to get this brute to work.  
I wonder what fun lies ahead tomorrow... 

Sunday 29 October 2017

Repose


I woke slowly yesterday afternoon.  The dream in which I found myself was enjoyable, though what it was disappeared from my mind the minute consciousness returned.  I huddled under the ageing ex-army blankets enjoying the warmth and desiring to continue the sleep for some considerable time yet aware that I had passed he point where this was possible.  So rousing myself with little wish to do so I eased myself out of bed and lay prostrate on the floor until I could gather the impetus to stand up.


Why is it that the afternoon nap is more refreshing than the night one?  Why do I enjoy the after lunch kip more than one that last six or seven hours in the dark?  Could it be our perception of sleep is confused?  Are we meant to sleep longer during the say than during the night?  In the Middle East people rise with the sun and take to slumber at midday, no-one bar the 'Mad dog and Englishman' go out in the midday sun.  In Spain, and in the new state of Catalonia it is not unusual to have a siesta and work late into the evening.  Football games often start at nine in the cool of the day, something that would encourage frostbite if attempted in Dundee I can tell you.  Yet does this pattern benefit people more than the UK norm of rising in the dark and working all day straight through?  Are we more efficient or less so than Johnny Foreigner because of this?  
I suspect weather is the real determining factor in sleep patterns.  Hot nations need to hide at midday, this is less a requirement in Aberdeen or Inverness where finding a source of heat is more important than avoiding one.


Maybe the sleep pattern of the male lion is what we ought to follow.  Whether because of heat or habit I do not know but cats in all parts of the world appear to follow similar routines.  The male sleeps for around fourteen hours a day while the female hunts and provides food for the table.  The male then eats the largest portion and returns to sleep it off while the girls and kids finish what is left.  An admirable pattern on my view of things.  Quite what the male actually does to deserve this is as yet unknown but this is a pattern cats worldwide appreciate and adhere to so it must be correct.  


Of course if I sleep less at siesta time I might sleep more during the night.  But is that the way to improve my life?  Is it not better falling asleep at midday for ten minutes catnapping to refresh the mind for the rest of the days work?   I admit if you are driving a bus this could be a hazard but many folks would benefit from such a routine, shop workers, office dwellers, and men who have real jobs.  Those who are retired need it more to keep the mind fresh and I consider it important to practise as much as possible, in fact I think I ought to do so now...




Monday 16 October 2017

Cogitation on Silence and Noise



Late Sunday night and the world feels different.  It does not take long to recognise the reason, it is the resounding silence.  There is no football hullabaloo in front of me, no cars passing by outside, no young girls screaming in the park, no young males impressing them with their noise, there is school tomorrow and all that homework still to do.  There is even an absence of aircraft overhead, no quiet voices of passers-by, no footsteps.  All is still.  
Silence, something we are no longer used to.  Something I notice only when I have no radio or TV blaring, no football in front of me, no music, no sound.  All this silence appears a strange experience to me now.
Once, before the motor car and the radio it was always like this.  Small market towns had their own daily sounds, loud voices were not uncommon then as now especially when the pubs emptied but there were few if any motor vehicles with polluting engines, pollution was the responsibility of factories and they were closed on Sunday nights.  No workmen's carts would trot slowly by however the local gentry might pass in their Brougham on their way home from a free dinner.  On the edge of town animals in the fields might be heard, nocturnal creatures on the hunt, an owl or a few bats and in the country there are always noises nobody comprehends and does not wish to investigate. 
How quiet life could be before the motor car and electronic devices.
Perhaps we avoid life by hiding behind such electronically produced sound and thus fend off the need to think and face the reality of our lives.  Bread and circuses for the many in the modern day.

   
After eight in the morning the contrast is clear.  Already the barking of happy dogs with wagging tails with torpor filled owners following has been heard.  The bread van snarls it pollution spreading diesel 7:5 tonner up to Sainsburys, cars driven by Monday morning blues ridden owners head for work in shop or factory, and soon dragging schoolbags behind them the future of the nation appear slowly making their way to the school Stalag.  By nine the streets are busy, shoppers appear and the sun decides to shine when most folks are in work, isn't that always the way.  On Radio 3 a soprano warbles uninvited and behind me the kettle boils noisily for third, or is it fourth time drowned out by passing white vans rushing into their busy day.  All we need is the police round the corner or the ambulance from up the road to announce their arrival by blare their siren and the day will be complete.
Maybe I ought to go back to bed...?


Going back to bed was a good idea, I heartily recommend it.  In fact I recommend it so much I may return there once I have eaten something for lunch.  
Lunchtime certainly is not quiet.  Next door the builders hammer and bang, lorries back up across the street, cars waiting for builders lorries to move allow me the pleasure of their poor taste in music while they wait, and on top of this I have been back in the BBC iplayer.  This gave me five Radio 3 Essays on the Great War by Sir Hew Strachan a historian of repute.  (Do you ever hear of a historian being called anything else?  They are never referred to as 'dodgy' are they?)  This series is about 'The Long Road to Peace' and well worth a listen.  These fifteen minute programmes suit me as if they get wearisome you can dump them soon enough, I listened to all five.
The noise levels grew also as the street life became busier and the world went about its busy business.  I added to the cacophony by setting aside a few minutes to listen to AC/DC offer us one or two of their melodies, well if 'melodies' is the correct term with AC/DC that is!  Just in case a neighbour was in I used small earphones and now I am not sure I can actually hear the traffic outside as tinnitus appears to last longer than I thought.  

Storm Ophelia has been filling the news today.  This was a hurricane at one time but now is referred to as a mere storm even though it manages to reach over a hundred miles an hour in parts of the Republic of Ireland.  This is not one of the usual left over US hurricanes, Ophelia never moved from the eastern Atlantic and has begun to move north picking up large portions of Sahara sand with it.  This sand is they say much finer than that found elsewhere, whether this is true or not the sky has turned a yellow colour above us this afternoon and in some places a deep red has appeared in the hazy clouds.  The picture is quite close to how it looked at one point and the air is filled with a heavy scent, with fine bits going up the nose I noticed.  As darkness falls the sky changes colour and with the storm heading north the sky will clear by the morning I suspect.  The storm has caused much damage and several people have been injured and a few killed.  Here the sky has changed colour, the trees shiver in the wind and the slow traffic reveals the rush hour at its height.
I may as well go back to bed...


Wednesday 7 June 2017

A Day of Rest? Ha!


The sleep was fitful last night, not for the first time, rest was required after yesterdays excessive hard work, so when I awoke for the last time just after eight this morning I decided to have an easy day.
I sat at the laptop watching through half closed bleary eyes as words crossed the screen, my mind unheeding most of them.  I fed myself on the leftover stale bread and refilled once again the feeders for the greedy Starling family that consider me their main feeder, and attempted work on a war memorial.  This was hard, the details hard to find, the old laptop slowly driving me crazy by its slow response and then just as I was burning something for lunch the phone screamed.


Her indoors called to tell me her on at one pm had not arrived and no message had come through.  As she was holding the fort by herself, the morning staff had gone home, I was required.  Naturally I lied, claiming Morag wished me to stay, this lie worked once before but failed this time as she realises Morag does not exist. So I rushed my slow work, gobbled my dinner, looked for the 'Andrews Liver Salts' dug out another clean shirt, this means lots of ironing tomorrow, and slumped off to fill the gap.

    
Naturally this conniving woman, something women are good at, forgot to mention the 102 children in Victorian dress in the shop when I arrived.  This had 'slipped her mind' and did not 'seem important to mention.'  Never trust a woman!  
The kids and the teachers I spoke to, were very good in fact.  Dressed as Victorians and having suffered under a strict Victorian teacher, even one of the teachers got told off, the kids loved it.  They loved shopping in the shop (where else?) taking as long as possible to spend money, naturally few bothered to count up how much things cost and the younger ones had no idea how much change they ought to receive!  We always strive to teach them how to shop but it is not always possible with the excited crowd.    


The excitement passed I sat back to sip my tea and digest my hurried lunch.  Many other work opportunities were available but I managed to dodge them as my knees wobbled and my hulk needed its siesta that it was sorely missing.  Little sympathy ensued as she poor lass was in the same boat.  However as the computers are down she could hide in the office and close her eyes while I faced the world.
Shortly afterwards the world arrived.
Several ladies of uncertain ages arrived for a get together of some sort.  This included surveying the museum and going for coffee and gossip.  Most were members of the 'Friends of the Museum' and get free admission and I knew them all anyway, but one, who gave much information re the Great War exhibition cleverly indicated a fault.
Her relative, who fell at the Battle of Loos, is described on the blurb as having died and his body never recovered.  This however stands in direct competition with a picture of his tombstone!  No body, n tombstone, and we have a tombstone!  Later I checked this out and realised the mistake.  Of course I have not informed the lady that I wrote all the blurbs and therefore...anyway lets move on...

Home soon after work, via Tesco for bread to replace the stale stuff, and now exhausted I find I am too tired to sleep.  Tomorrow I return to the museum as in our hall the Election Vote takes place and our boss runs the Polling Station.  It will be busier than the last one....    

 

Monday 28 December 2015

A Day of Rest


I got up slowly today and sloth like entered the world.  When the daylight finally began to show I suddenly took it into myself to get on the bike.  This thought tired me somewhat so I pushed it aside.  However later, when the need for fresh things from Tesco arose, I ventured instead onto the bike in spite of my weak and complaining knees.  After twenty or so minutes travelling at speeds exceeding three miles an hour I made it home and then went to Tesco.  
The rest of the day has been spent in bed!
My siesta was forced upon me to make up for the early rise and soon after I woke much later I noticed it was time for Rangers v Hibs so I stayed in bed and watched Hibernian crumple under the bigot boys from Ibrox.  A sair fecht indeed that the Hibs were just not good enough on the day.  It looks like the play offs are their only hope.
However luck was in, not long after this Manchester United played Chelsea so I decided to remain in the filthy gray sheets (I must change them sometime in the new year) and watch this game.  In the few minutes in between I managed to make my tea (how good is the microwave?) and settle back before the start.
Two enthralling games to follow on from the one yesterday when the Heart of Midlothian took on the other bigot side and were held to a draw.  Scottish football is in a good state, only certain power brokers in the SFA/SPLF could disagree (and Mr Milne of course).
Now I note the last game today is not being covered by an online stream so I have time to scribble and then try to get my miniature quadcoptor to work.  Quite what I am supposed to do with this thing (about two inches in length and with no camera) I know not.  Just flying it around might be fun however.  Hmmm maybe I should try this at the muse....no, I had better not.
Back to bed I think.


Saturday 11 July 2015

Tired & Weary I Give up...



The sun shone again, I noticed it when I went for the sausages and veg.
I ate a bacon sandwich.
This wore me out so I returned to bed.
I then ate sausages and mashed sweet potatoes.
I then fell asleep.
I then ate chicken nuggets.
I am now falling asleep.
Nothing else has been done.
My weekend is so glamorous.
Tomorrow it will rain.

Woopee...

Let's catch a train... 





Wednesday 10 December 2014

A Normal Day



An eye opens slightly noting the grayish sky seen through the break in the grubby curtains.  The ear picks up a monotone voice offering violence, death and destruction, clearly the news so it must be the hour or half hour.  The body and brain continue to attempt sleep even though it will not come. It reaches half past five, a clear two hours before awakening was planned.  Turn to the other side, turn back, repeat process, still the voice continues monotone like spreading fear and anxiety with a gentle tone, the energy required to change channel not yet appearing the voice continues, the body still awaits seven thirty, the mind continues degenerating.  The other eye opens, looks around, does not like what it sees, closes again.  Sleep is supposed to be continuous for several hours, why then does my sleep run out before my body has finished with it? The grayness now possesses a blueish tinge, the radio has been changed to music and gentle Haydn soothes the brain but sleep does not return.  Vehicles begin to rumble past the window, feet, wearing iron shod boots clump down stairs, slam the main door shaking the building and clatter up the road.  Voices murmur as they pass, probably on a phone, trees rustle as the chill wind rushes down the street.  Thoughts run through the head, fears, dreams, hopes, wishes, all muddled, unclear and heading nowhere.  In the far distance dogs bark cheerfully, aircraft pass high overhead taking lucky folks to sunshine or maybe just Aberdeen, an early morning schoolchild drags his feet unwillingly towards his daily prison. Quarter to eight, still waiting on that last needed thirty minutes the body struggles up into the cold air, another day of joy and happiness will begin if both eyes open and find some degree of focus.  


The box was not big, I was paying, the contents disappointing, I was paying, the one receiving my sister, this was her present plus the cards for everyone else in the vicinity, thus saving me postage. The Post Office was all the way down the road.  I hobbled half asleep and upset that bus driver when I walked in front of him and he missed.  Surprisingly the place was not busy, unsurprisingly one woman was at the counter taking all day over various forms.  However the young lass took my parcel with her constant smile and showed excellent customer service by coming round the counter and helping me back up after she told me the price!  That was my last Christmas item posted and the lass has got used to me now as I have been in several times recently and I am glad that is all over.  From now on the postmen will be very busy and my stuff is on its way. Next week your stuff will be delayed!  Ho Ho HO!  



   

Wednesday 3 December 2014

Idle



I've decided to be idle for a day.  
Not only did I have a busy and emotional Sunday (Yes Willie Collum I mean you!) but I also had a very busy Monday.  Marching here and there, helping in the museum on the day off, marching back here and there, and then doing my Tuesday duty with no help whatsoever (except when I broke the card machine). This has worn out my weak and enfeebled body to the extent that I must lie around like a slob (for a change) doing nothing that would require energy.  Pass that tea cup over would you? 
It makes a change to be idle.  
I am much more used to being occupied with things of note, researching dead soldiers, reading good books, watching football and the like, this sitting and staring into space through the grubby window is not something I am used to.  I have had jobs where idleness was part of the day.  One office I was forced into had a dozen members of staff and work enough for five of us.  Allowing for the fact that many amongst them were not of the highest intellect and the puritan work ethic was not an item they had ever encountered it did mean however I was kept busy.  On occasions it was very quiet so I would pop to the loo down the corridor behind us.  To fill in the time I would head in the opposite direction, slowly, oh so slowly, and wander down the back stairs.  This would lead me through the building for a long detour where I would reach the corridor behind the office then return, slowly, oh so slowly, the way I had come.  No-one ever mentioned this!  Even the eagle eyed boss with a Maggie Thatcher venom did not notice any absence.  Of course once computers were installed the workload, which did not increase in volume, increased to the extent that we were forced to work continually throughout the day taking a full day to complete the work one done in two or three hours.  Several members of staff had breakdowns, one disappeared and the boss's head exploded one morning and she was promoted upstairs.  Being to good at the job I moved to higher things.
Work, not idleness is my thing.  I like work, my desk is piled with work, but I find being idle just looking at it is beginning to wear out my heart, I feel a tension there so excuse me while I push all this paperwork to the side, oops, onto the floor, and relax a wee bit.  I do like work, in fact I have watched some of that work pile up for so long it is now past its sell by date and no longer requires my attention, it's just that I have not been able to round to dealing with it, what with all the other work I am sitting looking at here.  Previous managers often used to mention how I collected work around me and watched it carefully.  Collecting boxes in warehouses was an old trick used by some to avoid work.  These rascals were not idling, it was just that by piling boxes high and leaving a small space in the middle they could play cards without needless interruptions from foremen and the like. 
Idling this morning by looking through the grubby window I note many individuals idling, standing there shivering while the dog runs about enjoying the sights and smells of the park.  The owner, wrapped up against the freezing wind is lit up by the sun shining brightly upon them and by the glass of cognac swallowed before leaving the house.  I am not saying the east wind is that cold but I noticed a man feeding anchovies to a penguin earlier!   It would be interesting to work out how many hours a woman can stand still over the period of a dogs life while she waits on the brutes pleasure?  Standing there hoping not to attract the wrong kind of attention she hovers near a tree in the hope of some shelter, the dog meanwhile attempts to hover near every tree in the park oblivious to her distress and near frostbite. This is a form of idling that I can avoid easily.  However I suppose standing at a stop waiting for a bus to arrive is similar.  There you cannot seek shelter for some rude soul will take your place and there may not be room on the bus for you.  The same goes, albeit slightly differently for millions peering down the track awaiting the 7:43 to their destination. How cold can a train platform be?  Those grossly overpriced mobile phones now distract the freezing queues as they wait, murmuring that they have too little cash into their £500 phone.

It is common in Continental culture (do the continentals have culture I ask?) to sit by the roadside inhaling petrol fumes while drinking coffee watching the world go by.   This is not really something 
I would find easy, to boring, and too nosy really watching people.  However watching attractive young women ignore me is something I have become used to, ever since I was about say, oh eleven. Sitting drinking overpriced coffee with stupid names while being rejected is not my idea of fun but it is a form of idleness much loved by many.  How many of the people passing by are being idle anyway?  Are they unemployed, could they be skivving?  Is this parade of beauties just lassies parading as they have nothing else to but be seen?  I wonder, so many people walk the streets during the day you are left asking where they all come from and why do they not work like the rest of us had to do for many years?  

Anyway, I am worn out doing this.  I feel the need to eat and refresh my tired mind and my etiolated frame.  After which the need for sleep must be paramount as I only got about seven and a half hours last night, surely I need more?   I wonder if somebody might feed me to save me the trouble...
  


Monday 30 June 2014

Groan....



Sick, suffering, unwell, weary, .....ooooohhh  aaaarggh etc, let me sleep.....