It’s light and the fuc*ing birds are warbling at full volume.
Normally it’s a great sound, it’s nice to live somewhere that can sustain wildlife that doesn’t want to mug you and take your wallet, but come *on*, it’s not even fuc*ing 6am yet.
Don’t they have *any* respect?
Woke up at 4am, after getting to bed at a bit past midnight, couldn’t drop straight back off, due to the cat meowing to be let out, the birds warbling at full volume (yes, at 4am), and some noise downstairs.
Which turned out to be the CD player. Which neither of us can work out why it was on.
5:42am – wondering why the CD player was on – can’t sleep (clowns are gonna get me?)
Got back to bed at about 4:15am, had a quick chat to Grete to see if she knew why the CD player was on, then we both needed the loo and she needed a cigarette, got back to bed again at about 4:30am. Too much noise.
Too much hate of work to rest.
Lay there until 5am, not sleeping, specifically not sleeping, wondering if it’s legal to shoot birds on your own property in the UK, sadly I don’t think it is. Decided to put myself out of my own misery and get up.
Needed an early start anyway to shave – it’s gonna take three goes of the razor to get rid of this facial hair.
Had some toast with strawberry jam. That helped. Having coke now, liquid brown version.
5:49am – not bothering to sleep (clouds might try to get me).
I wonder why I only ever feel like ‘blogging’ when I’ve not been able to sleep? Cause or effect I wonder. Perhaps the urge to blog is so strong at times, that it stops me sleeping. If I was younger I’d take out a university grant to study that, I’m sure I could string it out for 4 years for a PhD.
“Blogging And Sleep Prevention : A Study In Causality and Inappropriate Use of Government Funding”.
Someone I knew after university did a PhD in a narrow field of superconductor theory, and spent roughly 80% of his time deep-freezing yoghurts in ‘dry ice’ and perfecting the process to make instant-yoghurt-ice-lollies.
Don’t think he made any superconductor breakthroughs though.
I do remember having to suffer him walking around my friends house in his grubby y-fronts and nothing else, more often than is good for the soul. I used to get a lift from my friend to the place we both worked, so I’d travel there and wait in the lounge for Jack (said friend) while Yoghurt-Ice-Lolly-Y-Front-Dood would wander around making toast and mess.
I can’t remember his name though, although it might come to me. There was Jack (metallurgist), Chris (physicist), Phil (electrical engineer), me (computers), and y-front boy, all sitting in Jack’s lounge thinking the same thing (well, y-front boy wasn’t thinking it). Which was, why is he wearing those grubby y-fronts.
I remember the day Jack had his entire garden tarmac’ed – excellent decision, not only did it reduce his garden maintenance to 0 hours per week, but it provided an excellent platform on which to play football.
5:56am – can’t sleep (y-fronts are gonna get me)
So may people in my life that I’ve just lost touch with – I’m such a lazy friend in that respect. People who’s company I enjoyed greatly, but because I moved away or changed jobs, just fell out of touch with. It’s especially true of university friends, I mean some of those people I knew for four years, and then just stopped knowing. I made an effort to stay in touch with a few, mainly girls now that I think about it, but they probably felt I was stalking them.
The guy who used to start practicing his trumpet playing at 7am in halls of residence, I don’t mind not keeping in touch with him.
Sarah, the girl who lived in the room next-door to me and learned to play the Saxophone and didn’t mind having a sign on her door saying ‘no sax before lunch’.
Welsh Mark, who used to drive us to the chip shop on Saturday’s in his mark 1 Ford Escort, and who didn’t object (enough) when we volunteered to put a dart board in his room, and then subsequently ruined his wall with a billion dart holes.
Charles of course, who I thought I’d know for ever, but still managed to lose touch with really, although we do sometimes exchange e-mails.
Linda who was innocent as the day is long (for the first year), and who taunt me everything I needed to know about periods.
Alison, the first person I ever knew who actually smoked dope, the memories of a faint purple haze floating out from the bottom of her door. Alison is the one I miss the most, although I’ve only just realised that. Here’s to that night we drank brandy from mugs like it was wine.
Too many people, I’d be here for hours remembering them.
Those four years were good years (except for the bit in year 3 where I very nearly went insane, or perhaps I did it’s hard to tell).
06:05am – rambling now – can’t sleep (clowns are too tired to get me)
It’s gone suspiciously quiet. Perhaps Bubbles (our cat) has eaten all of the warbling birds. A more conscientious wildlife person would go and check, but not me. I’m staying here.
Eyes feel gritty, combination of non-stop-computer-gaming for four days, and lack of sleep I suspect. Although later I’ll forget about the gaming element and claim lack of sleep for my tired eyes, no doubt. Selective human memory rocks.
My mum’s moving house, out of the one she’s lived in since I was 4, so 30 years. She doesn’t own it, it’s a council house she rents, and she’s moving into a council flat nearer to my sister. Which is good. If I got sentimental about this stuff I guess I’d be feeling sentimental about now, I’m sure she is.
They’re clearing out the loft and keep ringing and asking if I want the junk they found that used to belong to me. It’s all going except a black bag full of letters and stuff, probably from around my University days, just before the Internet really took off in the UK while I was still actually using paper to send messages to people.
Anyone know any good cheap carpenters in Nottingham? Got some rotten wood around two door frames, and I’m too inept to know how to repair it, and too concerned about the cost to get in contact with anyone.
It’s one of those constant niggling worries I always have around me, I think I collect them on purpose, like a safety blanket, in some way protecting me from bigger more important things to worry about.
Or perhaps I’m just delusional due to lack of useful sleep.
Enough junk from me. See you all in-game later no doubt.