Sleep variations

Sleep is a beautiful thing when you can get it. However the sleeping habit changes with age, the older one gets the less sleep needed. In addition there is always things to be done and the best time to do anything with concerned effort and concentration is at night when it is quiet. Peace is also a beautiful thing and in a mad crazy noisy existence, finding peace to take a moment out is also difficult.

It is easier when done late at night say between 1 a.m. and 4 a.m. or perhaps even a little bit later. Not much later. Just a little bit. For after 5 a.m. the world is truly awake. Doing noisy things at night though is probably not a good idea if you like the neighbours.  Woodworking and plumbing are best left during waking hours, when most people are awake not when it's just light. Unless you happen to be an insomniac or a part time insomniac and dislike your neighbours, or live in a field.  Like sleep insomnia is a condition which comes and goes depending on it's fancy. So sleep, peace and insomnia are a trio of bedfellows each dancing in the shade of the banyang tree. One dances on soft sand, the other on cobble streets and the last doesn't care for peace is a state of mind.

Sometimes when I get home late the desire to sleep is so strong I will go to bed and then wake up a couple of hours later. This small luncheon allows enough space in the normal sleep routine allowing a later night and a little peace and quiet. Except of course at such small  hours of the morning it is not a time to get a musical instrument out and play, for other people are trying to get some shut eye. But oddly the desire to strum my ukulele is strong and it is like a force which cannot be denied. Except it must. This is because I just have not been getting in the normal practice routine which was part of daily life. Things get in the way. It would be so good if I could get away with just a minimum time sleeping and then be productive with the rest. But even productivity is a misnomer when distractions are abound.

Yes, sleep is a beautiful thing and it shouldn't mind coming day or night providing it is given a respectful place.

Cola and insomnia a couple of lovers

Waking up again in the early hours of the morning is a pain. As usual it becomes a matter of deduction and trying to reason what the cause was this time. Besides not getting enough exercise I have come to the notion it is drinking Cola in the evening. Because of the caffine content. Like this morning for example. At 3 a.m. I wake up, the bed is hot because there's a lot of covers and it's prepped for winter, consciousness is like a ice bucket challenge. Yet the usual tossing and turning kicks in, with a search for just the right position which will allow sleep to touch my eyes and body. It doesn't. I'm farting and awake. Maybe the coke has too much gas in it, maybe I have too much gas. But I can't sleep. At this point it is ludicrous just to lay there when nothing is happening. Weird shit is going on, shit I can't seem to control. I get tired in the middle of the day and could drop off like a log just after lunch, yet at night in a comfy bed sleep is elusively stolen away. Like a very early morning alarm clock that small caffine hit has come back to haunt me a few hours later.

I noticed this at first when I was drinking three tins of diet cola in the evenings. Not all the time, just when the fancy took me and the thirst had to be quenched. So I dropped it down to two tins at most, even when I wanted to get nice and merry with a dash or two of JD.  Then last night it was dropped to a single tin of cola, but yet here I am awakening at 3 a.m. again. Time passes and getting fed up of laying in bed I now write a blog at half four in the morning. What is going on? What is this thing which is making me cranky?

Shortly sleep may jump on my shoulder and stroke my brow. It will try and influence me to return to bed, a maiden of comfort leading me into a land of dreams. Except of course nowadays it feels like I barely dream. I know I do but I just don't remember any of them. They are too weird, which could well be some kind of psychological complex of inducted amnesia. An instruction which says when you wake up that shit will be instantly forgotten. I wouldn't mind remember if it was the reason why I got insomnia, even a bad dream gives a reason. But there is no residual it's just consciousness piercing through the world of somnambulance.  Damn that cola, get thee behind me cola, for thou are the taker of my dreams and I will persecute you when I next fall asleep.

I just hope it's pretty soon.

My socks caused this damn insomnia again

Drinking a number of Jack Daniels and coke put me in a slightly intoxicated sleep. Not too many drinks just enough. It was good because I didn't have to lay there and think crap, head hit the pillow and off to lala land. Nothing to do with the telly tubbies either. However at about 3 a.m. I awoke, so the four hours of somnambulism had been snatched away. Gently a waft of something smelly seemed to be tickling my nose. It was bad enough to just lay there and realise sleep was not going to happen again but to understand this waft was from me, or because of me. From yesterday. My socks to be precise. Now in a imaginary world where dreams are of the weirdest kind those very socks would of done a favour and walked off on their own, like the mops from Disney's Magician's Apprentice. They would of found the dirty laundary basked and dived in there all of their own accord. For it would of been the right thing to do. However, socks are evil, they do not have the power to get up and walk to the dirty washing pile, instead they will lay on the floor where last left and fester in the previous day's sweat and bacteria. Slowly and surely letting their presence known throw the reminder of their odour. This is what happened at 4 a.m. and makes me get up to write this bloody BLOG.

What is it about 4 a.m. in the morning? It is a time when going back to sleep is absolutely essential to ensure you are bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, but it is also one of those times when the pressure is on because if sleep does not come in an instant it will mean it is unlikely to come at all. Just laying there trying desperately not to move, or if it is necessary to move then to find the perfect position where sleep will return. Yet the bed is too hot, it feels uncomfortable, there is a itching devil in your mind jumping up and down on the cerebellum giving it a right kicking and not letting nature take it's course. Mind this may well be down to drinking too much coke and about now the effects of the alcohol have worn of but the effects of too much caffine are kicking in. So by the time you do get up about 8 a.m. then you're feeling like shit and want to go to bed again but can't because the law of humanity says it is time to get up and move your blooming arse, things need to be done.

I've not been walking so much this week. Which is odd why I should be woken up by the smell of my socks. For walking gives them a reason to be worn out and stinky. Taking the bus or the train into work most days and returning the same way has my preferred modus operandi. It is a form of lazyness when lazyness doesn't strike at night. It really is something I should sleep on, oh except I can't sleep on it, not at the moment anyway. I used to think walking was a boring thing to do and it was something the unfit people did, the ones who could not get to a gym, who were fat and said they walked as a way to ease their conscience. Now I'm older, fatter and unfit I to walk to ease my conscience and become a hypocrite to my younger self. The slimmer self who slept very well, the slimmer self who didn't drink too much coke or eat too much and had more head on his head. But such is the way of the world and getting older. Such is the way of invidious nocturnal very early morning awakenings and writings of words in blogs which never get read by anyone but are a reminder to humanity that one awake individual did write something down. Even if it was for himself and in order to ease his awoke nonsleeping mind, which very much would like to sleep.

Think I'll go and lay down now, but I can't sleep because I need to get up shortly. And maybe sort those socks out.

Moma the culprit of Induced middle insomnia

I am artificially awoken most nights, while moma trots off to the toilet to have a piss. She can't help it on account of having diabetes. I've had arguments with her before over this but they get nowhere and it only succeeds in making the home environment more stressful. She has a mental thing going on where the only subject in her life that matters is herself and she is unwilling to hear what I have to say and do anything about it. There really are times when this whole scenario ends up driving me completely mad. Especially when each day I have to put in a full shift at the fish factory, a place which can be exceedingly stressful in itself. She will not change her behaviour and she will not seek additional help from the doc.  She is on medication but clearly her eating habits and medication do not match. Again it's the self-centred thing kicking in. She will not do anything about it so this means I have what is termed middle insomnia.  I just have to do the best to cope with it but it is not easy, not at all.

This also puts me in a diabolical situation with regard to what actions I take. If I had money I would buy my own house, but living in London this is a fairy tale idea. Valuations of properties have gone up so many times this is no longer a place to own unless you just happen to be an investor. It can make you feel stuck, there is also no chance for rental. Why for this is probably one of th emost expensive places in the world to rent. Rental costs are going trough the roof, London has changed into an investment opportunity and properties are seen as assett values by anyone who has a little bit of money. They are no longer just homes for living in. I don't see why I should work just so what I earn can go into another person's pocket. One of those rich fat cat's the Tory party loves so much.

The other thing is being retired momma sleeps during the day while she sits are her arse watching TV. I have seen her do it, she rests her head on her chin closes her eyes and drops off to sleep. So while I am at work trying to earn a crust she gets in extra sleep time. This is something I cannot do of course so it puts me at another disadvantage.

So here I find myself at just before 4 a.m. writing a blog.I had thought about getting out my ukulele and playing with it. This way the old woman would not sleep either. I'd get my own back, but really this is not going to gain? For it yet creates an atmosphere of tension during the day. Like two bad tempered wolves constantly snarling at each other. Moma has the advantage if the stakes were down. On account of being an old woman she is considered a vulnerable individual in law. Although from my point of view this is not true, she no longer works, has nothing to do with her life except watch TV and sleep sitting in her comfy chair at the same time. Whereas I have to work to earn a crust. It is a situation which could push someone to the edge, but it really is not worth it, it is not worth getting angry as getting angry does nothing.  It was like she was trying to mentally break me, I've learnt a degree of acceptance now.  In the meantime I don't want her to think things are OK so I will just stop speaking to her. Why should I engage with someone who doesn't give a shit and knows their own behaviour is maladaptive.

There are solutions but they are  solutions which mean going quite some way from the norm. Solutions such as giving up work and signing on (unemployed) so I can join the same sleep rota or sleep during the day.  Watch TV and do nothing, but I can't do this, for I am not retired and my income will be reduced to that of a pauper. Moma would also not like it as she would stop getting the rent she gets now from me.  There's the option of going homeless and sleeping on the streets. It would get me away from this situation now but most likely put me in a worse situation. Again it would mean leaving my job. There is the option of throw moma from the train, which I must say does have a certain appeal to it. I'd get some sleep if only for a short time. However the sisters in waiting would want the house I sleep in sold so they could get their hands on some money.  Both need it.
Then there's the option of going completely mad, maybe just not sleeping and then sleeping when I can or displaying sympons of a mental illness and getting myself committed to a mental institute, getting a decent night's sleep and then being let out again.  Eventually there could be an advantage to this situation for I to might be considered vulnerable and the systems of society might at this point provide me with a social housing tenancy.  But on the other hand society may not happen because I might not be vulnerable enough.  After all, here in the over crowded metropolis there are so many millions of vulnerable people of much higher need than poor little old me going mental due to an induced sleep disorder.  I can't see my situation actually cutting the mustard so to say. I would of been considered someone who had made themselves intentionally homeless, who had intentionally left their job and had intentionally tried to become vulerable by begin nuts. So the remaining options seem to reduce even further when I step back and look at the situation I am in. With recognition it seems, it is better to be here at the whim of a crazy old woman who cares only for herself no matter what the atmosphere turns into.  With this same understanding I know I should of left this property when I was young, rented a room and saved up to get my own house, that is if paying out rent didn't bankrupt me.

However there are other alternatives other options I have to consider. Getting a white noise machine, using the middle insomnia constructively. I have recognised the piss she has after 2 a.m. is the one where my sleep cycle is most likely to kick me into a waking state. At this time I could write a blog, or do the thing I would like to do which betters myself. Learn a language, play the ukulele, it depends though if I am awake and if I can open my eyes because sometimes being awake after 2 a.m. is fine but the eyes want to stay shut. Listen to the radio, I have noticed how sometimes I can literally fall asleep listening to the radio. Go out for a walk for this time of the morning is probably the safest time to be out and walking, there would only be burgulars out at unearthly hours and insomniacs looking for peace of course. Knowing my luck when I return to the house Moma will be behind the door with a kitchen knife and stab me. Her defence would be "Mr Policeman I thought it was a crim trying to break in." Hell what a bummer it would be. Then maybe I'd get some sleep. It's odd the worse time always seems to be the instant you are in. I must admit though my change in mental attitude has helped me cope with it. Until this is I got to the point of being crushed between sleep deprivation, stressful work and migraines. For given the right circumstances any individual is capable of doing anything.

Nope there has to be an alternate way to deal with this situation, of all things I have learned there are always other choices sometimes it is a matter of thinking outside of the box or on the bed, so to say.

Sunday morning insomnia

It seems the insomnia has decided to pop it's head over the wall again and take a look in on me. I an hear it saying "what's he think he's doing sleeping, well lets put paid to that!" After which it is like a light is switched on in my head and bingo full house. Completely alert but eyes closed laying in bed going through the usual list of insomniac thoughts. Which go something along the tracks of

1.Do I stay or do I go, lay here with eyes closed keeping still and trying to sleep again, in some lost belief it will come back again. I will find it like a long lost trinket and feel comfortable again. Sometimes this works and the early morning hours have just provided an interlude to what was a delightful sleep. OK wake up later than usual but you still feel you've had restful moment or two.

2. Reach for my phone, check the time, think to myself oh it is just after 2 a.m. I've slept for a little more than two or three hours. Can I get by on only this much sleep in a day? The answer is inevitably no I can't.  Then I wonder should I get my laptop, should I go and make a drink, if I open my eyes will they still be heavy and tired.  Now this is probably the hardest thing for an insomniac to deal with. Exceedingly heavy eyes and still being very much awake and conscious. Heavy eyelids don't mean automatic sleep. They just mean your eyes are tired and need rest.  Yet if you are conscious the oxymoron is you can't open your eyes and have to lay there in torturous torment,

3. Toss and turn and find another position to lay in. Because the insomnia is down to being not sleep comfortable.  This happens every single time the light in my head is switched on, it's natural, just try a little change in position. After which maybe a half hour passes then position is changed again and again. Always hoping somehow sleep will revisit it's kindly gaze. Yet it doesn't.

The morning soon arrives because it has already arrived but several hours earlier than expected. Like no one gets up to head to work at an unearthly hour, even if it could be a pretty productive time in the office. The systems will be down, the doors closed. There will be nobody in, no one to bump into, unless of course they to were fellow insomniacs and then we could have an  insomniacs club and probably not get on with any work anyway. Funny though how at such early times in the morning the mind can feel so absolutely awake and alert, focused when it knows it should not be. Perhaps we are tied to tightly to the notion of following a 24 hour clock, what would the world be like if everyone was conscious at the times they wanted to do and didn't follow a routine. There would then be no such thing as a typical working day for every working day could be atypical. What a thought.

It's now 5:30 a.m. and I've been physically up only an hour but actually awake three hours or more and now I can feel myself actually starting to feel tired again. So ironic, I can't help thinking there has got to be something wrong with my body clock, or is it my mind. I hope not. Somebody get me a shrink.

Insomnia and little feet scurrying

I got hit by insomnia last night, but I know the reason why. Having spent the entire day indoors and then drinking a couple of Jack Daniels and coke in the evening.  They didn't seem to do anything until I was in bed, the caffeine kept me awake. I lay there eyes wide open thinking I should of made myself get up, then got out during the day and had a walk. Strange because Sunday is usually the day when I make sure I get up and out for a walk.  Just for this very reason. In fact I've been getting out and walking a mile or more most days, one day I even walked over four miles.  Then sleep comes like a witch has caste a spell.  It works which is all I can say.  So I lay there, did a little reading "1984" by George Orwell and then returned tossing from side to side.  I got hot possibly on account of it having been a hot day and the house being hot.  At about two thirty in the morning I heard a sound I was hoping had gone away.  It was the sound of little feet running across the floor boards in the loft. Not the feet of a ghost but the feet of a rodent of some description.  Wonderful, now I could lay there eyes wide open with the though of a rodent running over my bed or even up my legs. Just what I needed to stay alert.  It's always wonderful how the fear in your own mind can play a lot worse on you than the reality of a situation.  So tonight I will be reading up on rodents and trying to understand their habits and how to kill them.  Yes, my next occupation could be a night time rodent exterminator. Always on call. Bloody things do they not understand human beings are probably the most intelligent animal on the planet and residing in one of their homes could end up in their very own demise.  They need to learn this at an early age, but being on account they are stupid they don't. Still worse they shouldn't pick on someone who has occasional insomnia it can make him very irritable to say the least.

Sherlock - The Old Git's got Insomnia

Maybe it is something to do with age and not exercising enough, but as the years pass and my hair becomes more grey sleep is a problem. It's like sleep deprivation and grey are correlated statistically. I can prove it hell look at me.  Not so great is the fact it takes longer to look good. Or should I say to make the best of the assets I've got, the charmingly good looks are a shade less charmingly good looking.  With lack of sleep the bags under my eyes seem to have moved from small handbags to large longhaul, overnighters.  I got to be careful I don't trip over them. Being a man I can't get away with extra make up, there is no additional layer of plaster over this craggy face. However, probably the worse thing of all in age related insomnia is when you realise it is nothing to do with yourself.  It is everyone else around you.  Like they have formed a small secret society, have a log book of my sleeping habits and coincide their activity so they hit me right in the middle of a REM sleep. Induced insomnia that's what it is.  Just as the old git is about to enjoy a dream about chocolate or cheese someone goes to the toilet.  This time it was my neighbour.  At 4:28 a.m. I could hear the echo of a toilet roll as it was pulled from it's holdler, the little wheel it was on squeaked round and round. At first though I didn't recognise what it was, it just plane woke me up.

So there I am laying in bed gradually coming around because there was a noise. It is somewhere in the back of my conscious mind, in the bit between sleep and wake, it's kind of pressing on my brain because the noise could of been anything.  I also realised I was hot. Bloody old age and hormones were now kicking in, they both were hitting hard. If I'm not getting up in the early morning it's crying like a baby at youtube videos of rescued dogs. The normal sleep mind now was evaporating, I could see it like water in the sahara desert, just disappearing. I changed position, I removed some covers, I altered the ear plugs which are nearly permanently in my ears. It didn't work. Thoughts strayed as to what the hell the noise was which woke me up. It was almost like the roof tiles clattering when pidgeons used to wake up with the morning sun, but the room was dark.  At this moment a saying came to mind, something Sherlock Holmes said:

"...when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth..."

I thought to myself, shit Sherlock you can work out what the noise was, now lets just think about it. Of course the thing is sometimes all the possible solutions are not thought of, then it is the one you could not figure out which is the answer.  I came up with the following:
1. A mouse
2.A rat.
3.A pigeon
4. A fox.

I examined them in detail, we only just had a mouse and mice make a scurrying around noise as the tread lightly but noisily over things, and scrape them.  As for a rat I sure hoped it wasn't one of these but the noise was actually louder than what a mouse makes.  I thought if there was a rat then I'd of heard this earlier so it was unlikely to be a rat.  The pigeon was a good option but it was still dark out and I know they come out when it is light, there would of been a hell of a lot more of tile clatterings as well.  A fox, now this was possible but it dawned on me the noise was internal.  So my list had eliminated four possibilities of which it was none in all likeliness. I lay on the bed having removed th ear plugs just being still listening and hoping in part the beautiful princess of sleep would come and kiss me gently. She obviously didn't because she must of thought that old bugger looks a bet rough, must be the bags under his eyes.  Then I heard another noise. It was the neighbours. The always shouting at his kids neighbour must of got up to evacuate his bowels.  There was movement as the thud of footsteps through our waffer thin walls went down stairs.  If only this house were built in the 1920s then it would of been propper quiet. But it wasn't.  I heard him go out the front door and then drive off.  It was about 5:30 a.m. when I did decide to get up.  So in all I've had about four and a half hours sleep. 

I now know why old men are generally called grumpy old men, because nobody will let them get a decent night's sleep! 

Holding a fist up to the clouds and rain

Sometimes you can do the right things and it's still not possible to get sleep. This happened last night. Sunday I did the usual walk, this was three hours long, then it rained.  Wonderful. I got wet and carried on, fortunately not drenched but nearly drenched. It was the intermittent kind of rain, the kind which wasn't sure in the first place whether it would come down because it felt so comfortable up there in it's soft fluffy but rather grey looking cloud. Yet it had to rain just to show it was real and the cloud cover was not the kind which just wanted to have a joke, it needed to prove a point. An endearing point, fortunately not too enduring for me. My coat is not of the expensive type which repels all known germs or rain but rather an off the peg and temporarily does the job but doesn't like to be overworked, in short it is an indolent coat when it comes to rain and will give in after a period of time. Consequently there seemed to be a wet patch on my back, even though I had a ruck sack.  I could of easily held my fist up to the sky and damned it to high hell and back, just like a character from Forest Gump, however this act might of looked a little over dramatic. Well certainly to anyone who saw the crazy man with a ruck sack on his back shaking a fist to the sky. "Come on give it to me, give me all you got, you bastard little rain drops. I'm a man, I can take, damn you wet droplets to hell where you may become steam and evaporate, damn, damn and treble damn you." Well, perhaps a little over the to and possibly worthy of an ambulance and being sectioned under the Mental Health Act. All for the sake of a decent rain resistant coat.

Well never mind, it's a new day. Off to work I go, hi ho, hi ho followed by achoo. The revenge of the rain a never ending cold which has so far lasted about 4 weeks.

The weight of love

This morning I woke up at 4:40 a.m. and felt completely awake, my brain was in full awake mode and even though physically I was still needing additional rest it was not going to happen. So the day has began and I will have to run on 5 hours sleep only. It could of been worse and might of been 4 hours sleep.

Listening to the radio (which decided to actually work this morning) I ate a slice of toast with tomato on top and heard an interesting article.  It reminded me also of an event witnessed in Prague a couple of months ago. We had walked through the old town of Prague, over the Charles Bridge which is a beautiful medieval thing, and were heading up towards the Castle (Kafka wrote about) then passed a small bridge. The metal railings of the bridge were covered in padlocks. It was an odd thing to see. There were two gay men who had the body language of two people in love, they took a padlock and attached it to the railings, then threw the key into the waters below. It was a significant gesture for the two and I must admit to finding it quite touching. Sparkling said we should of done this, she was right we should of but how was I to know there would be a lovers bridge in Prague? None of us did. The radio presenter then spoke of such a bridge in Paris.  Again a remarkable thing when I think about it. It is almost like a phenomenon a local padlock seller has thought up in order to get a few tourist sales, the word has spread and now they are probably doing it all over the world. It's a craze, or fad, a bit like skateboarding which has never gone away. I should of persisted with my own wheeled board as well. This bridge in Paris had partly collapsed, the authorities had said the weight of padlocks and been too much.  As a consequence the local council has now banned padlocks from being attached to it. There was no mention of an alternative lovers fad which they could do, they quite rightly didn't want to spend all their well earned tourist profits on repairing bridges which tourists were getting a kick out of. Shame on you Paris for it seems this is not the most romantic capital of the world it's just a rumour and probably one started by a flower seller in the middle of winter.

My own love I keep in my heart and quietly express it to Sparkling Eyes. Which reminds me I need to research about how to handle angry people and calm them down, as trying to get out of a moving car while the love of your life gives you a dressing down could end up in personal injury.

Insomnia again

Well last night I was struck by insomnia again. Went to bed at 1:30 a.m. and still fully awake at 2:30 a.m. I could of gone to the kitchen made a cup of tea, made a cake, carved a spoon returned back to bed and it would of been like my eyes were glued open.  My head was in thinking mode and there was nothing to stop it. It kept on going and going.  It was a matter of persevering, so I just lay on the bed sometimes without my ear plugs in. At some point I got to sleep, but then didn't check the clock to see what time it was. It was morning time.  In consideration of poor sleep I got up early, 7:30 a.m. and was awake. Fully awake, now at 1:30 p.m. I find it difficult to keep my eyes open.  If I follow the temptation and rest my head for a short while the whole insomnia thing could return later tonight.  Again.  So it's catch 22, keep myself awake and not let the devilish insomnia take a grip.

So be it, for now.  Zzzzzzzzzz

Waking up too early and reading books

Don't know why it is but I've been feeling blue lately, a manic fish factory where every day is filled with fires and before I walk through the door it's necessary to check the extinguisher is full up, hatchet is sharp, yellow helmet on my head and breathing apparatus is filled.  Yesterday I even went into the Fish Factory to do a little extra work, it's weird though how it doesn't take too long before feeling overcome by the amount there is outstanding and how to cope with it. As continuous pressure is put on fish production the fishes are expected to do more and more, with IT systems which are slow and continuously fail.  With IT support who's only answer is to switch off and switch on again. Maybe all of this is why the insomnia is kicking in again. One evening after going to bed I woke up at 1:30 a.m. and thought I was fully refreshed and ready to get up, another morning I woke up at 4:04 a.m. as I checked my phone I wondered, now should I actually get up or should I try and sleep in a little longer.  Knowing, getting up in the wee small hours would of meant being a wreck at some point during the day.  This would mean my fire fighting skills might not of been much scratch either. Funny how when there are things on my mind how everything else becomes more difficult to deal with.

Before sleeping I try to get a few pages of my book read.  It is enjoyable picking up a good book to read. One which sets you off in a different world, or time or country.  With characters and story you begin to live in your mind's eye. It's not just a matter of reading it is of being in the book, in a place and away from it all. The book I have now was picked up in a charity shop for only 50 pence. It's called Carter Beats the Devil, written by Glen David Gold.  It is great to pick up a book so cheaply, and this is the one thing which e-readers is going to kill off. Bad news for charity shops bad news for those who can't afford to pay the full extortionate price of an e-reader or the download data of an e-reader book. These kinds of books can't be loaned out.  The e-reader is a universal reading device which may last two or three years and then every book loaded to it is then lost.  I hear the books they hold are encrypted to the reader. Which further restricts loaning or indeed putting the data onto another device so it can be read another day or year. This is important because I have books on shelves and they stay there waiting for another day to be read. They then get picked up and re-read. In doing so I realise there are passages I had forgotten or not really taken in.  The good literary novels are the best to go over again. They are ones which stay in your mind and leave an imprint which makes you think about them. They are more than entertainment, much more.  Reading a book is an investment in your own time, it's a necessary thing, it will educate as well.  Whenever I can I try to learn new words, and book reading definitely helps in expanding vocabulary. Book reading is education for adults, if you are not reading a book then you are not feeding your grey cells.  Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a librarian, but then I'd have to interact with people as well.  There's more to minding a library than meets the eye especially with the general public having their own ideas of what a library is.

The character Charles Carter in this book is having a bad time of it at the moment. The thing is I feel for him and this probably isn't helping with the stressed out mood I got either. I hope he picks himself up I need a bit of an adventure and a bit of laughter. Glen David Gold is a good writer and I must admit to really liking the story and the writing style.  There are so many authors out there who over simplify their language an literary style just to enhance book sales.  Writing a book isn't just for the public, it is for the author as well and by doing something for themselves regardless of what the public might think then the best writing comes out. To write for a commercial reason is not the same as to write for the love of writing and want.  I also personally believe people who pride themselves in being fast readers don't actually read books well at all. Like the formulaic author they skim through a book and if you have read the same book and start to ask the questions they don't remember or are unable to contribute to the conversation. Perhaps it is a case of quick in then quick out.  Shame, because where is the pleasure in discarding art, education and entertainment at such a level I ask.

Well, after a long nearly three hour Sunday morning walk I'm beginning to feel a little better. The fireman's helmet can come off and I think I'll just settle down and dive into Gold's book. Which I highly recommend to anyone. It beats fighting fires all day, that's for sure.

Feeling a little better, but not on top of the world

Today I can feel a difference in this flu like thing. There is a lifting of the symptoms. My head isn't as bad as it has been. But last night I was hit by insomnia, which has got to be due to laying on top of my bed and sleeping the previous 24 hours. Sleep evaded me between 12:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m. and I know this because I got up about four times to do little things, get personal radio, a drink, personally count the seconds which passed and then listened to a radio program at 3:00 a.m. about sleep. An expert was on it and answered questions as people rang in and told him about their problems. I should of given him a ring myself, at least it would of given me someone to talk to. Mind considering what time of the morning it was you got to ask yourself if this man is such an expert on this why on earth was he doing a program at this time in the morning? Surely he would know all the things he had to do to be sleeping. Unless he had a thing for being a Z list celebrity by being available at any time of the day and night. One thing I did take note of, if you have to take an afternoon cat nap don't make it more than 40 minutes as it could effect your night time sleep. So said the expert.

Although the head pain is reducing there's a kind of dizzyness. Even sitting still in this seat it's there. Like I could be spinning around in the seat. Or one of those snow scene glass balls you shake, put down on a flat surface and see all the snow wizz around as it settles. Weird. A kind of wizzy snow head feeling. It has got to be connected to balance, somehow my balance mechanism has been effected. In a drunken but not drunk manner. I could have alcoholic beverage and see if it gets any worse although it is just a little early in the day at this time to do so. Mind I never was one for those games where you spin yourself round and round and then stand still to see if you could walk. They make me feel sick. Which is appropriate with being sick anyway. Certainly in this case. I wonder if the human body gets any better or any worse as it ages at coping with sickness, especially when considering it manufactures it's own ant-sick things in the blood stream, what are they called? You know what I mean, the things which attacked the little ship as it went round the human body in inner-space (film), the miniaturised submarine film. I know one thing my memory is certainly getting worse, or it could be the illness which is making it worse. Great. Have a bad memory, well get sick and it gets even worse.

Sparkling is often telling me how she is forgetting things nowadays. In fact the basis of some of our conversations is about things we have forgotten, or her telling me I've already had certain conversations with her and she has to remind me of them. At which point a little bit of recognition flashes up. You are not just the sum of life experiences but also the sum of those memories you can still remember. Which is an odd thing. One day they will be able to create memories in a milkshake. You just drink it and think you have been on an adventure holiday but never did. I guess the milkshake will probably be a bit more expensive as well on account of putting the memories into the milk. It must be a tough thing to get milk to remember it's been on holiday and done something other than being milk. Well I must be on the mend, my mind is starting to work again it's not like normal but then every mind can't be normal. The normal ones are just plain boring.

Waking up at 2:37 a.m.

This morning I woke up at 2:37 a.m.. all I can recall was being in the middle of a dream and although not completely a nightmare there was some aspect of it which woke me. I wasn't scared as such, but think there was a dispute of some kind going on. I should write these things down. Awake. But my eyes were so tired I could not actually get up and do anything so just lay there doing my best to drop off again. It was weird. Checking the phone for was a predicate to whether it was appropriate to get up, hence being quite confident on the 2:37 a.m. part. The entire first half of the day, morning to lunch I was a complete grouch. Very unhappy and ready to bite the head off a soft furry cuddly cute creature, like a baby rabbit and not give a damn. This is the after effect of not sleeping.

At lunch time I spoke to Sparkling Eyes, we discussed a new protable house phone I'd ordered. Rock Chick had tittle tattled on Sparkling, by texting me Sparkling loathed the phone. It's a strong word to use "loath." I told Sparkling about the little dicky bird telling on her and she thought it was unfair Rock had done so. I'd even said to Sparkling if she didn't like the phone to give it to Rock. One of the issues seemed to do with the ringer. She could not find a tone she liked. Being German I asked whether it was an Oompah oopah sort of sound. Like a brass band and laderhosen. She wasn't happy but was going to put up with the thing. She punctuated her discussion with the comment "I don't want to be ungrateful..." which really tells it all. Sparkling might just go and buy her own house phone. I don't mind, all I want is to be able to talk to her once in a while. Sometimes it seems everybody else does but I don't get a chance.

Rock Chick texted me to say she was excited about my coming up to Scotland again. Which will be some time next week. She also said babyfro was now only ten weeks away. I wish she hadn't of said this. I was in the Chinese again and felt the same old pang of emotion and happiness, I could of cried into my chow mien, but held it together.  I think she knows what she can do, just a word here, or a word there and I'm all a jitter. Mind I do hear Rock is getting emotional all the time as well. I expect she will be happy once the ten weeks are over. If I'm up next week then it is down to 9 weeks and single figures. Sparkling has said Rock seems to be walking everywhere and is keeping in shape.  It's just the bump in front which is getting bigger and bigger.

No wonder I'm waking up at 2:37 a.m., I must get drunk, then wet the baby's head and get drunk again. Well in ten weeks time that's for sure. I can't wait to be called "Pops."

Life with a diabetic in denial

So far 2013 has been no more than a follow through of 2012 problems. The difficulty is sleeping, primarily I'm just not getting enough of if and am constantly suffering from levels of sleep deprivation.  There is one sole cause, Momma. She is diabetic and has to urinate frequently. She wouldn't have to do so if she were sensible with her eating habits, but she's not. It's the hidden sugars she absorbs and doesn't understand this is the reason she has to take so many toilet breaks. In a night it will be anything from 3 to a dozen times. This can not be healthy, it is an indicator of someone in denial and with no understanding the health issues diabetes has. It is a silent creeping killer, it is constantly there and wants to get a firmer grip, when it does rather than a single scythe of death it will work painfully slow. Bit by bit degenerating the body and pulling the individual down into poor health. It is a slow painful deterioration and death. I know of a number of people who have diabetes. Two of which have been operated on to remove part of their feet, or their lower leg in full because of poor circulation and likelihood of gangerine.  I know of one man I used to work with who used to drink like a fish, the by product of diabetes is the conversion of alcohol to sugar so increasing tolerance. He went to hospital, also due part foot amputation and then had a heart attack and died. He was a nice man, he took on the worries of the world and just didn't look after the most important one, his own health. Momma's constant denial is leading to an additional reason for my sleeplessness.

We argue, we argue at different times of the morning. Usually after I have been repeatedly woken up by her going to the toilet. This could be 2:30 a.m., 4:00 a.m. 3:00 a.m., it's all relative. Sleep deprivation makes me cranky and I'm getting a lot of sleep deprivation. We had a spat at 5:00 a.m. this morning, when I then had no real choice but to wake up and go to work even though it was far too early to do so, had I gone back to bed then I don't know when I would of been able to awake in the morning. After this spat, Moma went to the quack, she explained to the quack it was me who had the problem and I was drinking alcohol. I like the odd pint, usually one pint or two and it would be a couple of evenings a week. She didn't mention about her diet I am guessing. She said the quack told her to have me thrown out of the house, it was her house he's the one with the problem. If I leave then I will not not return to enquire about her, not for some time, not till I am over it. She will have to seek legal action against me. In the meantime she will still get up and down a dozen times a night to urinate, it will not solve her diabetes. She has a condition and her denial will lead to her death. I don't want to leave, for many reasons I need not go into, but I now see how vulnerable I am to homelessness. This mentally ill woman who has been sectioned under the mental health act before.  My mother, could see me homeless in real terms and this is frightening. The housing situation is dire in London, rents are high and it will be difficult to get a mortgage because I have no savings. There are no close friends who would take me in, to an extent I am at the whims of a mentally and physically ill geriatric woman and need to either cope with it, or find an alternative solution.

I looked on the NHS web site to see if there was guidance for diabetics. It is not a particularly helpful site in relation to dietary needs and comments. It says the NHS does not recommend any special diet, but it does not add a caveat that a sensible diet low in sugars both natural and processed should be considered. Momma will eat ready meals which do not list the amount of sugar they have in them but will list it as content, she eats tinned fruit in syrup, the NHS site advocates diabetics should eat fruit and vegetables but it does not caveat the dangers of certain fruits or certainly those in tins of syrup. The absence of such information is a significant failure in the information it gives out.

Sleep deprivation is torture, it is psychological torture and can be read in any eye witness account of tyranny against enemies of the state, e.g. Saddam Hussein, or Al-Asad. My work is complex and cognitively demanding and Momma does not take heed when I tell her the repercussions of what can go wrong, how people can be effected if I make the wrong decisions. Being of sound mind is a necessity in many senses of the word. I have to really think about this and decide whether I can continue living in this situation. Were Momma the ruler of a country, I wonder if she would be one of those tyrants, but I'm sure she'd have a free eat all the ice-cream you like holiday, at least every two weeks. Maybe that would supplicate the masses.

Insomnia is making me cranky

Sleep was a little better last night, but it is not a full deep and undisturbed affair. I wake up when I don't want to wake up and the world encroaches on my senses. It's like the external environment does it's best to intrude on those who wish to keep it out, just for a few hours. I notice how noisy it appears at night when I go to bed. However, when I speak of noise it is not the noise of a pneumatic drill or fireworks display, it is the noise of traffic in the background far away. Little noises which I should be able to shut out. Like in the morning it will be the noise of pigeons on the roof cooing, I hear them and they wake me up. So sleep is interrupted again. It is just not allowed. I stick ear plugs in and these only seem to have a half-hearted effect. I don't want to hear what is going on and am now on the point of considering drugs. Whether it would be better to see the Quack and ask for something to help me sleep. What I would do for a long, long undisturbed heavy sleep. There is still the option of going for a walk, of doing some kind of exercise. It doesn't matter what the exercise is as long as I do something. Which will work two fold. First to tire me out and second to make me healthier. It is such an effort though, but it may have to be done. So as I slowly drag myself into the world of the living, the loud, the fully conscious I must now contend with the option of physical exercise. It seems I may have to go through a period of being a zombie. In order to get some sleep I will need to both mentally and physically exhaust myself, and to make a conscious effort at it.

There are a lot of things which have been pissing me off lately. Religious nuts who have to sing in the street, lack of sleep, a workplace which is nothing but stressful as none of the machines work, missing Sparkling, getting sore and calloused fingers from playing the Uke, toast which is not crispy enough and goes soggy and tasteless once margarine has been put on it, a diet consisting mostly of fried food with very little fresh food, and being fat.  I could also quite easily kill someone with the rage inside of me. There are times when I am so relaxed and everything is like water flowing around me and it has no effect. I'm guessing this cranky mood is all sleep orientated and once I can achieve some shut eye, the rest will be OK, it will all fall into place, like a self fitting jigsaw puzzle, if ever there were one. Funny how very important sleep is, how it does more than just recharge the batteries, it resets the brain, effects mood, rests the body. There could be chemicals in my blood stream going around and around which haven't had a chance to be cleared out by sleep, or even exercise. It's for me to regain control of myself, my life and concentrate again on the things I can do. The proactive things I can change in this way I'll not be swept away with the crap.

I heard Dangerous had spent another day with his mother. It is always a suspicious affair I feel when he goes missing. Rock Chick needs comfort and support at this time of her pregnancy, especially with her hormones all over the place. When Dangerous sees his mother it is like she is trying to change him again, manipulate him into her control so he can not think for himself. He is a fragile young man and does not understand even your own mother can be a bad influence, you have to make your own choices at times and disagree, allow  yourself to be happy. He has confessed to being happiest when he is out of her influence. This has usually meant being away from her, physically away at a place or distance where she can not see him or talk to him for hours on end. I can not but think if she spends hours with him it is because she is brain washing the poor lad. He has a relationship and will soon be a father, his first priority is to Rock not to Mrs Manipulative who domineers the entire thought processes of those around her. If he can't think for himself he had better be very careful. For it will do no good in his relationship with Rock. I have told him he must follow his own happiness, find what it is and grab it with both hands, I sure hope he gives Rock a good hug and together they ride the waves discontent which have been fanned by others, or rather an other.

I'm at the stage of deciding what to do with my Sunday, I need to get up and dressed and start to be active. In a very real sense of the word. It's my life and I live it as I want to, be it my Uke (Bertha) or the end of feeling in my finger tips, be it the end of full sanity and consciousness, be it the troubles ahead, the perceived troubles, or the troubles which are going to be ridden like a bare back horse rider. That sounds good, time to get some clothes on and maybe a dash of war paint as well.

A sleepless night and morning with Ms Insomnia

I was kept awake all night by a woman called Insomnia, and she was bad. Well it could of been thoughts of being back at work, the Fish Factory, and no Sparkling to cuddle up to last night. Without a doubt it was one of the worse episodes of insomnia I've had in a long time. I didn't even bother to look at the clock and gauge time. I just knew it was early morning, probably about 3 a.m. before I did sleep. Up late and then to work at 10 a.m., those fishes will be happy.

You always know it's going to be a difficult night because the usual methods used to trick your brain into sleep don't work. Telling yourself to relax, counting from one to ten and then really concentrating on sleep don't work. I also try the reverse psychology method. This is where you think about getting up, going downstairs and then making a cup of tea. Considering any option which means being in some way slightly active. You wouldn't want to do a marathon, just something light because the plan is to return to bed. Unfortunately the reverse psychology was a bit of a bummer as well. I could of easily got up, decorated the front room, done the Times crossword returned to bed and still would of had my eyes wide open. It was like I had gone to bed and had two or three expresso coffees first. Laying there was a token gesture to the hope sleep would happen. In Sparkling's house I have a crazy cat who loves me and treats me as his bitch to open doors and let him out for a night run. Here I have my own head. I'm attached to it and it will not do what I want it to do.

I just don't know how this sleeping lark works. I'm thinking I may have to do something radical and even exercise. Hell yeah! Exercise. I'll either have physical and mental exhaustion or turn insane. Then all i'll require is one lovely padded room, maybe that would help.

Boy or Girl, what will it be?

It's the morning before the scan, when we'll find out what gender baby fro is, boy or girl. Text messages have been flying through the air, Rock Chick is excited and Sparkling Eyes didn't sleep all night long. Hit by insomnia and worry everything is OK. She tried her best but had to get up for tea at two in the morning. It' an important scan Sparkling tells me. A lot can be told from it. Rock thought it was unfair there was only the choice of two sexes and not a third one. Personally I'm glad there is only two genders, imagine, three would make life a whole lot more difficult. During the night, Olly the cat did his usual but I didn't think he was so bad.  it frustrated Sparkling and she threw a cushion in his direction. He seemed to go quite afterwards. I couldn't tell what was happening because of the dark. A few minutes later he was up on the bed and purring instead of meowing for attention. Cat and baby I'm lucky I got any sleep at all. Sparkling has told me this is now 5 months in Rock's pregnancy. I saw a picture last night of what the baby should look like, between twenty and twenty four weeks the foetus grows a lot. Which suggests Rock's bump is going to get particularly large over the next month. She got some maternity clothes and showed the stretchy leggings. Such leggings looked pretty comfortable for a big belly.

Today is hogmany, tonight Sparkling and Dangerous will be working to an unearthly hour for the hoards who are getting completely pissed in celebration. I'm now fed up of over eating and over drinking, it's getting more difficult to roll out of bed. I'm beginning to look like one of those toy weebles, the round bottom ones, which are so heavy, you push them and they don't fall down they just right themselves again. There certainly will be something to celebrate this afternoon, boy or girl, it could be head wetting time. Blimey, am going to need a new liver at this rate if not larger jeans.

Distracting into slumber

Well it's been a week in Sparkling's company and now I'm back in London again. Last night was difficult without Sparkling there to help me get off to sleep in the evening. It's a comfort kind of thing. Being able to reach out and touch, it's nice, warming and reassuring.  When I went to bed I knew if I wasn't careful it would be a sleepless night.  Brain working industriously away and not getting a wink at all.  Then I cast my mind back to the day before and thought of Sparkling.  Imagining I was in bed with her and she'd pushed me right to the edge of the precipice, the point where somehow I'd carefully perched my body so the danger of falling out of bed versus getting to sleep was satisfied. In this imagining my mind calmed itself and I was able to drop off into slumber without too many problems. Funny thing the head is. It gets a thought and it then has to be corralled into the right arena, so it does the right thing.  It's a little like having an arm wrestling match with your own hands.  Sometimes it works others it doesn't. Then today I hit the Fish Factory so I wouldn't have to think to much about missing Sparkles. It's about keeping occupied and distracting the mind from dwelling on sad things.  It just has to be nudged, cajoled, pushed, shoved, hoodwinked, into thinking about not thinking too much. It is an art form as such.

The method of self distraction can be used for all kinds of things I gather.  I've heard how people on diets would distract themselves they already had eaten or it certainly wasn't time to refuel. It's an art which magicians do on a regular basis, diverting attention from one place so the important slight of hand part can not be detected.  it is the thing which happens when something is forgotten.  Get involved in a puzzle then answer the telephone and you'll be lost in a distracting place where the answer to a certain clue has now completely gone from memory.

So it is, I distract my mind from being sad and thinking how much I miss the most beautiful woman in my life.  Sparkles, otherwise I'd have a problem getting to sleep.

An insomniacal posting

Well it's been one of those nights so far.  The kind where it is difficult to sleep.  I went to bed just after 12 o'clock and after a while thought it was about six a.m. and time to get up.  My feet were cold, for some reason they would not warm up, and I haven't had a wink of sleep.  I check my clock and it was half past two.  No where as late as my mind had led me to believe.  So just after three a.m. I've now had enough of laying still in bed and doing my best to will myself to sleep because it plain is not working.  I have either a weak will, or am going psychotic.  I get up, go downstairs and make a cup of tea.  I need something to do.  The alternative is to get dressed and go out for a walk at three a.m.!! I wonder what the likelihood is of getting picked up by the police as suspiciously doing nothing.  Were I a copper doing a late night shift I'd certainly pick myself up for questioning. Maybe I'd get some sleep in a police cell, because my bed bloody well isn't working.  Drinking the tea I know this will not work either.  A three a.m. shot of caffeine probably isn't the answer either.  It's not like I have one thing on my mind and I can blame this one thing.  It's just because I'm awake.  I could of had lime juice squeezed in my eyes and wouldn't of been any more awake than I am now.  This head just isn't dropping off to sleep.  It lays there and nothing happens.

I'm supposed to be doing overtime in the morning.  Getting up and going to the Fish Factory.  If there is anything which is on my mind it would be work.  How it is all piled up and how the pile just gets higher.  I've been neglecting my tray lately thinking other stuff is more important.  There is never enough time.  Only if I could stop time and then do the work and then restart time would the work get done.  I have now become a workplace donkey.  Carrying the load and not getting anywhere fast.   It's one of those things I have to accept and just wait for the big pile of crap which is due to hit the fan soon, to actually hit the fan and scatter itself all over me, head to toe.  I can imagine it splattered across my face as well.  It's not a nice feeling. It don't matter how hard I work I can't keep up with it.  Hell, thinking about it now makes me tired.  My eyes are actually starting to feel heavy.

Time to hit the hay again.  Round two, lets see if I can get into double figure blinks.

Aunty Insomnia

So there I was yesterday blogging about how difficult it was to get some peace and the evil of interruptions, and today I'm at the Fish Factory, with hardly anyone around me, in a quiet office and unable to get on with what I should be doing because I'm now procrastinating.  The old Devil Mr Procrastination had perched himself on my shoulder and kept whispering in my ear "do this, do that, not what you're supposed to do," the thing was he won out a few times.  it could be because after a week of madness I'm exhausted with it all and just want to do something else.  Besides work.  Or it could be because I woke up with less than four hours sleep and was unable to drop off again.  It was the madness of Aunty Insomnia who had visited me.  I lay in bed just hoping by some association laying in bed would give me something like sleep, which it did not.  So there's no surprise when i eventually got to the Fish Factory and did half a morning's work I was feeling tired.  I need exercise, which always does manage to help me drop off.  Even if it's just a little.  Exercise is like garlic to a vampire an Aunty Insomnia is a vampire of sorts, she's there to keep you vigilant, alert, in those wee hours of the morning when the monsters come out and want to steal you away.  But they can't because you're awake and ready for them.  In such circumstances Aunty Insomnia has her place.  She is a valuable tool against the horrors of the morn.  Except for the fact such horrors do not exist because they didn't stop me from getting up going to the toilet or doing anything else I wanted to do.  These horrors are the stay awake thoughts of an insomniac.  Thoughts about nothing in particular, thoughts which make the bed not quite comfortable enough.  Whatever gland there is in the brain which kicks out sleep hormones wasn't working.  Certainly not last night.

By some telepathic sympathy, Sparkling to did not have a decent night's sleep either.  It could be a combination of her hypertension and knowing she had to start work early.  She was on the 8 a.m. shift this morning, and then is to do an evening shift this minute.  Today may be part of the weekend for most people but for some it is the start of the working week.  For some who do not spend the weekend chillaxing.  I hope she has a good sleep tonight because she will otherwise be exhausted and she needs it. In the end we are all going mad in various degrees, but usually for different reasons.  Aunty Insomnia can be one of those reasons, it's the reason why you hit the workplace and feel tired out with no energy and could kill anyone who wants to get on your nerves.  I don't think Sparkles has killed anyone yet but she does have high blood pressure, this worries me.  I want Sparkles to be in the best of health and to not have insomnia more so than myself.  If it helps I'll volunteer myself to take on her insomnia just so she can sleep.  Which I have done at times when the cat has decided at 2:30 a.m. he wants to get up have a bite and go out for a bit of play time with the other cats.  If an animal can suffer from the attention of Aunty Insomnia Sparkling's Olly (cat) certainly has it.  Then Olly does spend all day sleeping on every soft cushion or surface in the house he can find.  No wonder he's nuts.

I know I am not getting enough exercise which is probably the main key to getting better sleep.  It has been raining every day for the last two months so it doesn't help the matter.  Yes I don't let the rain get me down and actually don't really mind it but it is another excuse I can throw in the bag and blame on old Aunty.  Further I am not getting any younger.  Now if there's a cliché that sentence is a cliché and is axiomatic.  Nobody is getting any younger if they were then they would of tripped over the fountain of youth and the world would know about it.  I don't think anyone in their right mental state would want to live forever, but they would certainly like a good night's sleep three or four times a week.  Damn.  I got to get out more.  The secret could be getting physically tired so as to evade Aunty Insomnia, because then no matter how much she bangs on your bedroom door, nothing can be heard, because counting sheep is in progress.  Yet it's not just physical tiredness which is important.  The head has to be switched off so it is not generating thoughts of any kind.  Mind exercise is also needed.  If I don't mind, neither will Aunty.