It's 3.01am and I stir, I am awake, I'm starting to get excited, this morning I am taking delivery of Dave Bailey's Hardknott beers.
I get up and make myself a pint of orange squash, I have every intention of getting a couple more hours kip before heading off to work at 5.30. I go back to bed.
Next to me my wife is tossing and turning, she is too hot, the flat is too hot, I drain the liquid in my glass and try and get to sleep....
I can't, I start thinking about the day ahead and my mind starts racing, after taking delivery of the beers I have to get over to The White Horse in Parsons Green with some coupler heads, then I have an errand to run for Lucille and I think about the journey.
I have not had anywhere near enough sleep.
I hear the first bird song of the day and think...Shut up you little bastard!
We're sat in the car park besides the Rake. The market is already busy despite being very early.
ReplyDeleteWe have a car full of beer which has made it here safely. I can't wait till Monday.
Brilliant. you should get up early and write more often!
ReplyDeleteNow I'm awake and at work I can appreciate the birds a bit more, hearing the first birdsong of the day is either :
ReplyDeletea) a beautiful thing or
b) a desperate thing
Poetic insomnia - been there, done that, you have my sympathies sir!!!!
ReplyDelete@ Glyn: I think W.B. Yeats summed it up best...
ReplyDelete"Shut up!! Ye feckin' little bastards!!"
It's one of his earlier efforts, I believe...
If I wake up during the night hot and sticky next to my wife the last thing I think of is beer.
ReplyDeleteThe first thing I think of is....
... a cut of tea.
Hands up all those who predicted jiggery-pokery !
Pie Tin - she doesn't get enough sleep at the moment so I let her be yesterday...
ReplyDelete