Round Midnight.

The phrase ‘Round Midnight’ brings to mind smooth jazz from John Coltrane say or the dark ill-lit streets after an evening’s entertainment ‘up town.’  Workers in hospitals or hotels might find a quiet descend over their premises as sleep replaces the hassles of the day.  The night watchman enjoys the quiet after midnight and settles down to doze his way towards morning.

In this house things are done differently.

I sit wrapped in a blanket coughing loudly hour after hour filling my night with listening to the depressing news, it is always depressing the news, or watching late night adverts on ‘teleshopping channels.’  Just who is buying non-stick frying pans at this time of night?  Amongst the late-night offering is an abundance of Brexit news, unfunny comedy, unfunny US comedy, mediocrity and repeats of films and programmes long past their prime.

Depressing.

Late night radio offers avant-garde on Radio 3, news or discussions on news, local radio joined together to save money and playing bland empty tunes, many stations offering music, either bland or meaningless pop.

Depressing.

This does not please the cough, a cough which now adds a special new headache to the joy.  Sleep, the only relief is not to be found, especially when trusted up like this! 

Yet this morning I was telling someone I thought the end of the virus was here, by lunchtime I found out how wrong I was.  A check of the diary to where I cancelled the museum meeting shows the virus has lasted 8 weeks and still counting!  Eight long weeks and there appears to be no end.  If it’s not the head it’s the stomach, if not then it’s the chest, then back to the head, I am not in love with this virus!

I glance in the fridge, the milk is running out, food uneaten is going off, and what exactly is that black thing in the plastic bag?  I need to eat but my body does not wish to, I need to sleep and my eyes will not shut, if they do the cough returns.  So I sit here in the East Wing so as not to annoy the man downstairs, if indeed he has not run off to one of his women to avoid me. 

This is minor, but very injurious.  I know of many with harder experiences, one who cannot walk as the foot will not heal, others with infections that cripple them, still others whose bones are crumbling while yet another awaits a fearful operation. 

I am grateful I am not they.

So I give thanks for that and await some form of slumber while resisting the temptation to watch ‘Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmare’s USA’ or ‘Love in the Countryside!’