The middle of the night

Like many of us, I tell people they can call me any time, day or night, if they are in any sort of trouble or if they are having some kind of crisis.

No one ever does, because they think I am the kind of person who is going to get upset, or they don’t wan’t to bother me, or they don’t want to wake
me, etc. But I really don’t mind. I quite like being awake in the middle of the night, and after that first reflex jolt when my sleeping brain detects the rude arrival of the audio wave from the apparatus, I am ready to chat.

I gave a young relative my number and told him to call me any time, with his parents being away on a trip, and he did. It was 12.50 and I heard the ping of Facebook Messenger on my phone. I don’t know whether I helped him (the ‘conversation’ mostly consisted of “I’m fine! I’m really fine!”) but I hope so.

Did I go back to sleep? Pretty much. It was cold and I am developing a cough. Now that, rather than a call from a relative, will keep you awake.

After a run of bad sleep, I was contemplating using the addictive and nasty Zopiclone, but made an amazing discovery. I was just cold. A blanket on the bed and I was good for 5am, which in my view is not an early start. If I’d put a pair of socks on I would probably have slept even longer.

In matters psychological, look for the simple things first: you have a gnawing pain inside, you’re probably hungry. You feel weary, you’re probably tired. You feel like you have a broken heart… you probably have a broken heart.

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