Sleep

Sleep used to be fun.

I would lay my weary head on the aged pillow and soon drift off into slumber.  Between 6 or 7 I would begin to rise and greet the day with a smile.  Well, I would greet the day.  This does not happen much just now.  I drift off listening to something interesting, well usually, on the 'BBC iPlayer' which we must call 'Sounds' these days, and sleep.  The thing is I am awake by 12:10 am.  I struggle back to sleep and it is now 01:37, then it is 02:45, then again 03:16.  This continues until 06:15 am when I awake, decide to give it one more go and next thing it is 07:50 and I am now running late!

Now before cynics start claiming the half pint of brandy I swallowed while watching that football which required it, I can tell you that cannot be the reason.  Sometimes that puts me to sleep when watching! 

It is rare to sleep for 5 hours at a stretch.  It does happen, but rare these days.  I went to sleep content and relaxed last night yet the hourly waking continued.  This results in being half asleep all morning.  I may try eating something late on to see if that helps.  

The conference is on, no-one is allowed to mention the Winter fuel debacle, or indeed those backhanders, however, that is all the Tory press are asking, and any objectors are flung out.  

Expect more meaningless Tory lies this week.

And is it not time these conferences were held over a weekend?

Another Exciting Day in the life.....

Almost 5 am, I am awake.  

Again!

My preference is to rise around 7 am, here I am again awake at 5.

And awake it is.  No drowsiness, no yawning, no weariness appears.

Wide awake.

The street light has come on, soon followed by hints of the rising sun afar off.

At least those hints sneaking through the cloud cover.

Cars begin to pass by, sometimes three at a time, this because they stop at the traffic lights up the road.

Many have failed to stop at the red light, they are often halted outside my door by the unmarked police car and smug officer who at last has something to do.

The 7.5 ton bread van noisily heads up to Sainsburys.

An artic throbs its way in the opposite direction, his load removed and already an employee who wishes he was elsewhere is increasing the price of the goods left to astronomic levels.   

I am still awake.

5:15 am

I attempt to put noise into my head, on comes the radio built into the mobile.

All the programmes I have kept are rotten.

I do not want any at 5 in the morning!

Instead I put on the sound of lapping waves.

These will lure sleep back into my mind.

5:45 am still awake.

The lapping waves have been making me feel seasick so have been swapped for bird song.

6:01 am still wide awake.

What sounds like a bad tempered buzzard forces me onto Radio 3 while I seek gentle tinkling piano music.

Screeching opera woman finds mobile lying on floor!

6:20 am. Still awake.

My mind fills with bad thoughts, depressions, failures, and confusion.

7:16 am I awake tired and weary, groggily searching for the door and heading for breakfast.

I will be like this until my lunchtime nap.

Just on 10 am, washed, coffee'd, and weary, I am sitting watching grey hair being blown across the floor.  I suggest that it is actually Blonde, but the barber woman will not accept this.  She does accept the two pound coins as a tip on top off the £11 cost however.  

Suddenly feeling the air colder I head for a cheap trip round Tesco special offers, this was once again disappointing.  Hobbling home the air appears even chillier, though some Spring flowers are appearing in the gardens, this is encouraging.

15:16 pm.  Much work to do, cleaning, tidying, hoovering...

Luckily, the neighbour downstairs has come home early, this means I canny hoover, I may as leave the rest also, just in case it disturbs him...

A Supper Party - 1903   Julius LeBlanc Stewart (1855-1919)

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...

 

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.

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 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... 

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...

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...

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....    

 

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.

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... 

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!