I haven’t been sleeping well. I woke at the crack of sparrows again after another disturbed night and threw open the curtains to see a bright red sky … a snow warning? No, not here thankfully, it’s currently 8.4c. It is the bitter north-easterly that makes it feel like Siberia where the temperature plummets to around -25c at this time of the year.
So I am counting my blessings. I hate the cold, which is probably something to do with my grandmother’s Greek genes. My life expectancy in Siberia would be about five minutes and my doctor believes he can keep me alive for another twenty years in this neck of the woods, despite the north-easterlies.
His estimate of my life expectancy wasn’t what I had hoped for. If I had been him, I would have added on a few years to ensure his patient was completely relaxed and happy before being presented with his £60 consultation fee. Saying ah has become so expensive these days.
Sleepless nights don’t pose too much of a problem for me given that I no longer have to don a suit and go to work, but it does have a knock on effect. Overcome by daytime lethargy, I get nothing done around the house or the garden. As for trying to cram in all that global travel on my Bucket Left over the next twenty years, on a budget and when you haven’t got the energy to pop out to the supermarket… doesn’t bode too well.
The times when sleep deprivation gets the better of me, I go back to bed with my Mac and whack off 3000 words under the duvet and that generally gets me stick from my chiropractor because it’s no good for my posture.
Everything is bad for you these days. Especially what you drink. Red wine used to be billed as being good for your heart. Not anymore. More than two glasses a night, even in your dotage and you are frogmarched down to the nearest branch of the AA. Fruit juice is taboo because it is not as pure as it used to be. I drink coke as well as using it to remove oil stains from my drive. So, I have decided that it is best to give up the coke and fruit juice and have every intention of sticking to wine on the basis that the old age adages are the best and, if I drink enough of it, I might actually get some sleep.