Sunday 29^th October, 2017 2320

And I have to be up in five and a half hours.

Not happy. I never did what I intended – toddle down and buy some gas (not critical and can wait to be fair) – and never cooked myself a roast. After toying with going out for fast food I even decided against that in favour of rustling up a chicken curry and chips.

I did so and even invited Annie but she had just finished yet another training weekend with the Peace Corps (for that read Modern Slavery Corps) and was going out to dinner with other slaves – sorry, volunteers. She does however want to come tomorrow to have the leftovers from tonight (and there are plenty) once I get back from east campus.

I haven't been able to sleep well this weekend. Bad dreams and an annoying bladder managed to see me rising at times that normal people would call routine and to be fair I thought “so what”, it just meant I would go to bed early tonight and not feel like death in the morning, as I often do when it is still pitch black outside.

In fact I was really tired and had to force myself to stay awake for fear of going to bed too early and waking at 0300. I capitulated at 2030, flopped on the not so soft mattress and was asleep in minutes.

Some time later I needed a pee.

I got up feeling groggy, groped my way to the loo and evacuated my bladder. Unusually, on returning to bed I hit the light on the bedside clock, hoping it was maybe 0300 and I still had a couple of hours to rest.

Incredibly it showed 2205!!!!

An hour and a half since I crashed??? I had to check. It was right. But of course now I was wide awake and no way could I drop back off. I got up.

So here I sit. Ok it hasn't been unproductive, Georgina had sent me an application for Swires for me to improve upon so I did that but hell, having done my best to ensure I would be refreshed tomorrow and ready for anything, I am now going to be a zombie when the alarm sounds. It is almost tempting to just stay awake. I wonder if I will care about sleep when I eventually retire? Do old people (well, older than me) when every day is Sunday, worry about when or how long they sleep?

I was thinking about death earlier today. Maybe that had something to do with the sleep pattern although I doubt it. Unless I am destined to become the oldest person in the world then I am well past the half-way mark and on the downhill slope, there's no denying.

How long left? Five, ten, twenty, thirty years?

I have cheated the grim reaper a few times, of that there is no doubt and I have been blessed with a body that, whilst hardly one suited for an Olympian, seems to soak up all the punishment I and others give or have given it. Does that mean it will pack up when I feel hale and hearty as opposed to having languished for years feeling poorly? I would hate to pop off feeling ready for that slap-up restaurant meal or that trip to somewhere nice. Equally, spending months in bed crapping into a pan and having to be spoon fed by someone before I drew my last doesn't fill me with excitement either.

I suppose the only thing I can guarantee is that my end will not be because my parachute never opened, I never skied off the edge of a cliff or overdosed on Class A drugs.

I assume I am similar to others of my age. You think about death (funny isn't it? When you are little you worry your parents will die) but the closer you get the less you want to croak and yet the less you fear it. You want to start enjoying life because you no longer NEED to earn and there are things you never had the time or money to do that you still want to. Well as long as there are no taxes in heaven – not that I am going there!

Enough morbidity!

Unless I suffer from Sudden Old Ditherer Infarction Trauma (SODIT for short) I shall return!