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Tag Archives: insomnia

Even my Kindle is judging me

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As if I don’t have enough pressure to succeed both in the home and at work!

Deadlines, targets, quotas to fill etc. 

Whether that be washing, ironing, or making sure that children with parents who are too busy eating or nailing their way around the neighbourhood (I am wildly speculating of course!) to spend some time with their offspring and help them to read, write or indeed use the words “please” or “thankyou”. 

Now my own witchcraft device of sorcery and Satanism is piling on the pressure.

I was never keen on the idea of reading a book on a digital device.  I like the smell of books and the feel of them in my hand.  I like to turn real pages.  Not wanting to end up a total Luddite though I succumbed to the Kindle as a birthday gift and have almost read my first book on it.  I’m forced to admit to quite liking the fact that it is so portable and that no further space will be taken up on my already heavily laden bookshelves.


I do object to the little messages that appear from time to time at the foot of the page saying things like:-

“At this pace it will take you 1hr 45 minutes to complete this book”

It’s not a race dude.  Besides, I’m busy.  Busy writing this shit.  Busy watching Hayley Cropper dying on Coronation Street.  Busy reading bedtime stories to my children.   Busy doing fuck all.   Busy laying in bed trying to get to sleep at dumb o’ clock in the morning while I’m worrying about children who can’t read or write or know their number bonds to 10 and how I may end up somehow getting the blame for that. 

Don’t pressure me into reading any faster Mr witchcraft magic Kindle.
  I’ve got enough on my plate!  I spent half an hour last night typing up a timetable of what I’m meant to be doing each day at work and in what class, because I feel like I am up my own arse, meeting myself coming back!

On top of which, I can feel a cold coming on.

Is it the weekend yet?

When bushes bite back

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When insomnia takes a grip and your mind is full of shit you can neither do anything about at 2am, or is even worth thinking about at any time of the day for that matter. (eg, Last night I spent 40 minutes laid there trying to remember the name of the woman who plays Stacey in ‘Gavin & Stacey’*)

When life just seems to be getting a tad too much to deal with; work keeps throwing you a curved ball and the annual worry of how to pay for Christmas kicks in.  It’s always nice that life also has a funny way of just giving you a little lift to take the edge off.

In my case, it was watching, with great amusement (and sadistic satisfaction) as some local fucktards were trying to hedge-hop** their way down the street. 
     One of them leapt from my neighbour’s garden wall, in an attempt to vault her privet in a single bound,  and faceplanted himself right in the midst of it!  The privet reacted by bouncing him right back out again with such force that he ended up prone and crumpled on the drive as his mates ran off laughing.

I laughed loud and hard  from my balcony seat at the bedroom window as he limped away to catch them up.

Bushy gonna get ya!

Don’t mess with my bush man!

 courtesy of google images

*It’s Joanna Paige.  I know that now.  This morning at 3:30am though it was driving me insane but I was too tired to get up and Google it to put myself out of my torment.

** Don’t deny that you haven’t tried this at some point (probably whilst drunk). 
I still recall, with great fondness, the great water fight/hedge-hop games of 1993 after a drunken BBQ at my friend’s in Tarvin.  My knee still sometimes twinges when a storm is brewing after I nearly broke my leg doing a Tom Daley through her mum’s Leylandii onto the village green.


I am pink, therefore I’m spam*

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Movie quote of the day:  “Who do I have to f**k to get off this boat?” – Alien 4

 After the demented spongebrained farce that was Sunday (had a stupid dumb blonde spacker incident that had me questioning everything I have ever said and done, and indeed, my own existence).  Am I really here?  God I hope not!  I must surely be the mental construct of a madman.   Anyway, I was more than ready for the arms of Morpheus (after Downton of course) on Sunday night.  Waking at 4am with migraine of epic proportions put a stop to that though.  Spent Monday ripped to the tits on Migraleve whilst trying to focus on a course entitled Outstanding Teaching & Engaging Learners.

I was neither outstanding nor engaged.

Happy to get to bed early last night too, once again tanked up on painkillers.  A good nights sleep was all I needed.

But no!

Apparently the local dibble thought they were filming some kind of remake of ‘Airwolf’ during the wee small hours. 


Ghetto bird hovering for what seemed like EVER above the house and surrounding area.  It went.  It came back. It went. It came back.
Turn the high beams on Chief Wiggam and just catch whoever it is you are looking for and fuck off. Some of us are trying to sleep here while you play at Boyz in the Hood! 


..and breathe

* stolen from a greetings card I once received

‘I’ for insomnia & Insecure

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Don’t you love it when you wake up at 1:30am after only a couple of hours sleep with your mind buzzing full of niggles of nothingness and convinced that you are bloody useless? 

No, me either! 

Brain tick-tick-ticking away; churning over shizzle and shite that nothing can be done about at that time in the morning.  Some of it, nothing could be done about at any time of the day in fact.  Feelings of inadequacy and ineptitude are always much more intense between the hours of midnight and 6am aren’t they?  Laid in the dark, wide awake and over-analysing your life!

On top of that, my belly was bubbling away, due to vegetarian chilli overload and a Kopperberg chaser.  Bman, (as of today, my husband of 10 years) rasping away next to me like a wasp in a coke can.  Ten years?  Worse people than us have been released back into the community after less time and given new identities with Australian passports FFS!                                  

I got him 4 cans of Gold Label and a DVD of ‘The Thing’ for £6 from Morridogs.  Hardly seems fair really.  Both of us probably deserve some kind of Certificate of Merit for dealing with each other for so long without committing murder.  Gary Barlow got an OBE for organising a party full of auld farts FFS!  Either me or the Bman could easily have shown the Queen a far more interesting night out…. “there was this one time…”

Back when we both had high hopes (& waists) 22.06.02

I was visited by the Muse aswell and felt the urge to get up and write, but feared that clickety clack of the keyboard would awake the household.  I couldn’t go downstairs and make a cuppa because the MiL is staying over and was asleep on the downstairs sofabed.  Besides that, the newly released crooked cripple cat was firmly ensconced on the bed; half on my crotch and half on my thigh.  Pussy on pussy action indeed (but not in the kind of way that might have disturbed my husband from his old man-like snoring.)

Consequently (after eventually getting a couple of hours kip in the bunk bed with The Bear) I have felt slightly delirious all day at work.  In honour of the 10 year anniversary I did wear my hand-crafted tiara (and at one stage, my veil aswell) in class.  Thought it best not to keep them on for the staff photo – tempting as it was to do so and then give my name as ‘Miss Haversham’.

So glad I wore my heeled boots so I didn’t look like a dwarf again like last year, but was then told that no footwear was allowed on the backdrop/floor cover.  Wouldn’t have worn my novelty bright-green frog socks had I been forewarned.  Brilliant! (Although to be fair, the end result can’t possibly be as bad as last years ‘Rod Jane and Freddy gone to seed’ farrago).

Right, I’m off to try my wedding dress on and see if it will still zip up without giving me back-tits.


Is it bedtime again yet?

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I’m on the computer blogging at 06:55am!

I’ve been awake since 0500hrs!

It’s not even Christmas Day, I’m not breastfeeding a newborn; I haven’t wet the bed; my children aren’t sick and I’m not setting off to the airport on holiday. WTF?

I’ll tell you WTF! I stayed up last night watching an episode of ‘Desperate Houseflies’ I’d recorded on Sunday (how DO those women of Wisteria Lane still look so good at their age? S’no fair!). I then headed up to bed and found Bman splayed out in the middle of the bed looking mighty comfortable but snoring like my Grandad. He’s been suffering with his neck lately (to add to the list of other crippling age 40+ ailments he applies ointments and unguents to on a daily basis). So I decided to leave him to it and headed back downstairs to the sanctuary of the couch.

All was good, but he’s on early shifts, so when he got up I figured I might as well have a coffee and start the day. Heads up to my sister who will be on the early morning train for the forseeable once my niece (Renesmee GaGa) makes an appearance (due April 13th). THERE IS NOTHING ON TV AT THIS TIME! Shopping channels and the News only. ‘Countdown’ is on at 05:35 but it was a bit early for me to focus on vowels and consonants if I’m honest. I did however solve the second numbers game in under 30 seconds when the panelists didn’t! Yay! I have been listening in Y6 Maths class.

I’m really tired now though and the childerbeast have yet to awaken and start telling me that they’re:- bored/hungry/tired/have nothing to do/peckish/thirsty/injured/don’t know what to wear/don’t want to get dressed or wash etc.

It may be a very long day… 


Not sure if she is meant to look like a paraplegic