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I am up quite early this morning. Early for me anyway. I didn’t start work until 12 yesterday but I went straight through until 9.30 pm and it was quite intense in places with lots to think about, so, as it turns out, I did not sleep well at all. I have to be on my guard for not sleeping well. Being too tired can send my brain to places it did not ought to go. I am following an artist on Twitter at the moment – she is bipolar. Apparently her father was bipolar too and committed suicide in the end. I worry when I see someone surfing the creative, manic wave of no sleep – mainly because, bipolar or not, it’s unsustainable. In bipolar, it can be fatal. Apparently if you work nights, it can increase your risk of breast cancer. Seductive and quiet the wee small hours may be, but they are not good for our health.

I have a nannying voice that tells me sternly to, ‘Go to sleep!’ So I lie fitfully all night long as thoughts and images swirl and whirl in my brain. I never get up and do something more interesting instead because that way madness surely lies, and I don’t need any help along the way with that. If I lay awake tweeting all night I’d be carted away within the week. So, if you ever see me on Twitter past midnight, tweet me to go to bed…

One night’s sleep

Is not enough.

My mind has a habit of riffling through all the unthought things from the day, giving me busy night and then handing me a mental to-do list in the morning. At the weekend it was ‘go to Scotland, on a train, lose your coat and your phone’. The morning list contained lots of, I admit it, helpful suggestions for some things I am working on. So it is not all bad.

Last night I don’t remember what it was all about, but it was tiring. I need another night, now.

My second sleep

I read a while ago that there is a lot of documentary evidence that our ancestors used to take their night’s sleep in two chunks: the first a few hours after dusk and the second after an hour or two of waking activity.

Tonight, I’m giving their system a go.

I went to bed about 8 p.m. and I’ve had a productive few hours between 12.30 and 2.30 a.m., so productive in fact that I don’t have time to write any more because I need to go back to sleep.

I won’t be able to review the effects of this until tomorrow. Let’s see. It never really worked out too well when the children were babies, waking in the night…

Voysey Owl Wallpaper

Foxes and low windows

We have had dog disturbed nights recently.  The ice and snow on the pavement has meant that late-night pedestrians have upset Rudi’s sensibilities forcing him into some light growling and barking.  I hoped for peace now that it has finally melted away, but last night was the worst yet due to foxes.  From the noise they were making I wonder if it is mating season, either that or some great foxy crime was being perpetrated down the road.  Their noise sends my dog into an incandescent rage of growling, howling, barking and generally hollering at the varmints accompanied, most alarmingly, by flinging himself at the single-glazed window with considerable force.

He knows this window battering is highly-frowned upon, but he just can help himself in the face of fox provocation.  I can’t just shut him out otherwise he gives full rein to his anger and bashes other windows or just makes a terrible noise to wake the neighbours.  I managed to calm him with a little sympathy and understanding, but he made me smile because he can’t calm down completely.  He ends up lying on the bed, being stroked and sympathised with and sort of huffs and puffs intermittently.

“But” humph

“And” grumph

“Foxes!” ggrrrrr

The other half of the bed has no time for any of this (and can we blame him leaving the house as he does before 6 a.m.), but sadly I think this may be a regular occurence for a few weeks yet.

I think the dog needs earplugs, walks to fell Ian Botham and I am going to have to get a quote for double-glazing, at the front at least.  This will be expensive as we will be replacing 1970 abominations with wood-framed sash windows.  Either that or bars.

I am borrowing the Stephen Foster blog’s house artist to illustrate our fractured night, featuring an unwitting fox at the centre. It’s come out a bit big, but I like it like that 🙂