I went to bed early about 8:30 because I was sitting in front of the fire feeling nice and cosy and I was having a glass of whisky and dozing off. That thing happened to me. That thing where you suddenly jump. Do you know what I mean? Like you are just about to fall asleep and you suddenly jerk awake? That thing. It can be quite startling. Yes startled awake that’s it. Well, that’s what happened and I nearly spilt the glass of whisky I was holding so I went to bed.
I read my book for a bit. Not my book I didn’t write it. A bloke called Robin Cook wrote it. I called it my book because I own it, that’s what I meant. But that’s not true actually. I don’t own it. I borrowed it from Tricia. She has got loads of books. So anyway I read the book – it’s title is Chromosome 6 by the way – for about an hour and then I go to sleep.
Later on I wake up and I hear a train passing – I live near a railway track – so I think to myself, oh good I think, it is morning. But it is not. When I look at my phone to see what the time is, it is only half past 12. I have only been asleep for about three hours!
So I have spent the last two hours or so lying here, trying to get back to sleep but can’t and my mind is swirling around like a whirlpool. So I set this little laptop computer up and here I am sitting up in bed writing this. It’s a bit cold but I have got my dressing gown on so not too bad really.
I like writing. I like reading too. If you asked me what I liked best writing or reading? It would be quite close but I would choose writing. More creative isn’t it? I mean you don’t need to be creative to read a book do you? So it’s no contest as far as I’m concerned. Definitely writing.
It is 3:16 now. Do you want to hear about the bloke I met outside the local shop yesterday? I shall tell you anyway. Let’s see if I can make it worth reading about
Yeah, I saw him outside the co-op. He was scratching one of them lottery scratchcards. By the time I got near him he was about to throw it in the bin. He looked up and saw me, “Waste of bloody money,” he says.
“Better luck next time eh,” I said.
He gives the scratchcard another look just to make sure he isn’t making a terrible mistake and throwing away a fortune. “ Nah,” he says with a grimace, “nothing. Oh well.” Then he looks at me again and I see a dawning recognition. “How you doing?” he asks, “ain’t seen you about for a while.”
I tell him I’m doing fine thanks and I go into the shop. When I come out again he is still standing there. He gives me a smile, “ere mate,” he says, “I don’t suppose you could lend me a quid could you? Please mate.”
I reach into my trouser pocket, locate a pound coin and hand it to him without saying anything. My silence and the look I give him is intended to show him I disapprove of his begging.
“Cheers mate,” he says, “ I’ll give it back to you next time I see you.” And with that he disappears into the shop.
He won’t give me the money back next time he sees me, he never does!
It is now 04:02. I think I shall try and get a bit of shuteye. Good night, or should that be good morning?