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One of Those Nights

Daffodils in Nottingham

I’m just recovering from one of those nights.

At this point I pause, wondering if anyone else actually suffers from this sort of night, or if I’m about to reveal too much about my life.

So, here goes.

I woke around 5am, which I consider early. At that time of the morning, even when it’s clear that sleep isn’t an option, I tend to stay in bed. Or, to be more accurate, at that time in the morning I tend to get up, take a trip to the bathroom, reflect on my age, and then go back to bed.

We need a new mattress, but I’m trying to last until winter before buying a new one. It’s psychological – winter is the time to think f sleep, spring should be the time to think of skipping through meadows of wild flowers.

Awake, bad back, semi-darkness, and the doubts begin to creep in.

How is Number One son doing in his new job in Malta? How is Number Two son doing in his Finals, and is his plan to work in Canada a good one? Are three part-time jobs providing the life we want? Am I going to die of a heart attack before I sort my affairs out?* (Business affairs, that is, I’m not much in favour of infidelity and, to be frank, even if I was, I don’t have the energy these days). What have I done with my life? Where has it all gone? What did I do wrong? Could I have spent my money better? Why can’t I budget properly? Where did all this clutter come from?

And then I descend to the smaller incidents and embarrassments, the times I said or did the wrong thing, the times when I couldn’t think of the witty reply that would have turned things round and made me feel better, the way that things went wrong on the farm.

Familiar?

If it is, I sympathise with you, but I’m glad to find I’m not alone.

If it isn’t, you are very lucky.

I’m going to post a few cheerful photos now and try a spot of optimism.

Is it working for you?

*The doctor seems to think I am.

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