Have you ever tossed and turned next to a throat-popping mound of duvet ,wondering whether or not to get up to go to the loo or stay in bed?
You reason with yourself.....
'If I get up I'll wake the whole house.... I'll be wide awake...... do I flush it if I go?'
'If I don't head for the bathroom I'll not get to sleep anyway because I'll be aware I need to go to the toilet'
... so you lie there cogitating.
In summer the light sky (in the north it does not get really dark at all during the night) adds to the likelihood of wakefulness; in winter the 'healthy' cold of a bedroom definitely makes it an openeyed scuttle to the ensuite.
In your head you discuss the health issues related to why you need to go to the toilet in the middle of the night- prostate trouble? prolapse? bladder infection? the joys of getting older?
Finally you get up and go......!
Mixed in with all these dozy thoughts are insistent, random niggles related to yesterday and tomorrow....
'Was Nancy Bordello's really a brothel?'
'It is in the right location in bygone days'
'My ears are still ringing from the Buble singalike'
'Why are carpet edges black?'
'How do we stop it happening again?'
Meanwhile whistling Harry snores through it all whilst breathing openmouthed, wet and noisily on the edge of the duvet; his stubble rasps on the percale cotton, ensuring a hunt to replace the bobbled cover will have to happen sooner than I would wish.
Eventually teethgrinding Aurora stretches himself out, refreshed after 'sleeping like a log'.... doors bang.... the kettle is filled.... water courses through the pipes..... the radio goes on fullbelt.......your eyes open.... the Weetabix existence begins.
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