Brain dead
The Horse Doctor * was away last night, indulging in drunken revelling at the company Christmas Party over in Nottingham somewhere. I don't really work for the company as such - I have a fee paid contract which means I get called in as and when there's something needs doing for which only my unique talents will suffice. It's a good arrangement in many ways - I generally get enough paid work to keep me in dog biscuits, and I can spend the rest of my time slaving away on weird fantasy novels. But it means I don't get any of the corporate hospitality (or pension for that matter, but let's not get boring.)
So alone, with only three dogs and a cat for company. Normally in these situations, I slip back into my old undergraduate routine of working into the wee small hours, and last night was no exception. The Inspector McLean mystery is not finished, but it's closer to completion than I might have hoped. Even I need some sleep so I sloped off to bed at about half past two.
I fell asleep very quickly, as might be expected, but I was woken at about four in the morning by an extraordinary noise. It sounded a bit like something large scrabbling around in the attic. That's not unusual here, apart from the large bit. There have been beasties up there before, and in the gap between the downstairs ceiling and upstairs floorboards. They scamper around in mockery of cats, and they sound large but are, in fact, small mice.
But when I heard this noise last night, I was in the process of waking up from deep sleep. To my dream-addled brain it sounded like a battle of mega-rodents and it shocked me into complete wakefulness far too fast.
After that I couldn't get back to sleep. Not for fear of attack or anything like that. It was more like I'd just drunk a litre of Red Bull and popped a dozen Pro-Plus (and I don't take caffeine except in chocolate these days, so even a small amount can keep me awake for days). No matter how hard I tried, my brain wouldn't shut down. At least not until it was time to get up.
So now I'm a bit frazzled around the edges. I've had maybe two hours sleep since seven yesterday morning and I've got to drive to Suffolk soon. There's a storm brewing in my head that might yet break into a real mother of a migraine and I'm going to be spending the weekend with my sister and her lovely children.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
*No, it sounds a bit too disrespectful, doesn't it. But 'She who like to play with animals' has some rather unintended overtones and has been copyrighted by another blogger.
So alone, with only three dogs and a cat for company. Normally in these situations, I slip back into my old undergraduate routine of working into the wee small hours, and last night was no exception. The Inspector McLean mystery is not finished, but it's closer to completion than I might have hoped. Even I need some sleep so I sloped off to bed at about half past two.
I fell asleep very quickly, as might be expected, but I was woken at about four in the morning by an extraordinary noise. It sounded a bit like something large scrabbling around in the attic. That's not unusual here, apart from the large bit. There have been beasties up there before, and in the gap between the downstairs ceiling and upstairs floorboards. They scamper around in mockery of cats, and they sound large but are, in fact, small mice.
But when I heard this noise last night, I was in the process of waking up from deep sleep. To my dream-addled brain it sounded like a battle of mega-rodents and it shocked me into complete wakefulness far too fast.
After that I couldn't get back to sleep. Not for fear of attack or anything like that. It was more like I'd just drunk a litre of Red Bull and popped a dozen Pro-Plus (and I don't take caffeine except in chocolate these days, so even a small amount can keep me awake for days). No matter how hard I tried, my brain wouldn't shut down. At least not until it was time to get up.
So now I'm a bit frazzled around the edges. I've had maybe two hours sleep since seven yesterday morning and I've got to drive to Suffolk soon. There's a storm brewing in my head that might yet break into a real mother of a migraine and I'm going to be spending the weekend with my sister and her lovely children.
What did I ever do to deserve this?
*No, it sounds a bit too disrespectful, doesn't it. But 'She who like to play with animals' has some rather unintended overtones and has been copyrighted by another blogger.
Comments
Evil Kev & I went to Costa Rica for our honeymoon. We were staying in this cabin - a really nice cabin - but it had the unusual quirk of having nothing but screen for the top few feet of the bathroom wall. The wall was 10 feet tall at least, so it wasn't a problem that way but we were completely conked out when some animal made the loudest shriek you could imagine right outside our bathroom. Which was when we discovered the cabin had this really unique acoustic effect...
Of course, by the end of our holiday we knew given the option of a 5 am monkey watching tour or sleeping in, you may as well go see the monkeys because if you don't, you'll be hearing them! Roosters are more forgiving.
And I know how you feel - vis-Ã -vis the work hospitality thing. I think I'm going to have a one man work's night out this year. Me and all my employees... er... just me then. But who am I going to gripe to about my boss?
And when are we going to see this McLean story? Eh? Eh?