Number Nineteen: Sleep

This is a subject very close to my heart now that I've finished my thesis - I couldn't get enough when I needed to get up and write at 5 in the morning, and now I'm out avoiding it until 1 or 2, margherita in hand being constantly replenished like the magic porridge pot (whilst my credit card acts in the opposite manner) only to find myself forced out again, blinking in the sunlight of the outside world to which I am still unaccustomed at half 6. You can toss and turn all night, but it always feels just so damn good about 46 seconds before your alarm goes off, just long enough for you to be conscious of what you're missing as you fight to keep your eyelids slamming shut and your head nodding in a way which - however much you may kid yourself - cannot be misinterpreted as "oh, I just really needed to see that detail up close on my screen for half a second". And now that my social life - aside from the margherita quaffing - is confined to weekends I've got that horrible realisation that I should be up to "make the most of the day". God, when I didn't think it could get any worse I find that I'm turning into my mother.


(If you're lucky enough to be working from home, then mid-afternoon kips are the best - whilst you digest your lunch and nod off in front of Doctors - and have the added bonus of turning your brain to mush for about as long as it takes to get around to watching the repeat of Neighbours. Damn, I miss those days...)