I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with sleep. I can remember being so upset I couldn’t sleep because I had to go to bed. Maybe this has bled into the present.

The funny part of it all, is I’d much rather not be asleep most of the time. My wife has always confused me with her desire, pretty continuously, to be unconscious. There is so much to think about, to read, to play, to discuss—why sleep?

So, now, it’s 2:15. I know that tomorrow I will feel wretched, and that can’t help. It started by me so very nearly falling asleep around 11:00. It’s been boiling, and I don’t really get on well with hot weather—especially when it’s so humid. I thought I had it tonight, though, with a nice cool bath, then In bed at a reasonable time to watch My Family with Wendy on iPlayer. That ended, so I switched on “Just a Minute” and turned down the screen until it was dark. I dozed off towards the end, only to be woken by something beeping somewhere. It stopped, but the damage had been done.

Next I switched on “Quote, Unquote” and walked downstairs for a glass of water, and had a bottle of lager instead, hoping the little alcohol might help a bit. It’s so much cooler down stairs, so I decided to remove myself to the sofa, still with “Quote, Unquote”. I had just settled when my phone dinged. It had finally delivered a message to Wendy, I’d sent before dinner. Then, after settling in again, Wendy’s phone received the text message. Her phone, a new one, now beeps every few minutes until the message’s been read… another trip across the room.

That’s when it started raining: by now I’m 15-minutes deep in Gardener’s Question Time. At last, it’s cooling off. Then it starts with the Thunder—which I have always hated. This rain literally poured down, and the thunder went through the house with a shuddering thud.

Gardeners’ Question Time gave way to “Word of Mouth”, which I can’t remember. By then I was feeling anxious, about literally nothing.

It’s the oddest feeling: beginning like discomfort, then a physical sensation in my arms. Finally, I can’t be horizontal any longer, and it’s another walk across to the smaller settee. I can’t actually put a thought to this ridiculous anxiety. I’m not scared about anything, really. My job’s brilliant, my mates are fantastic, and my Wife’s amazing. Sure, not everything’s perfect, but I’m not even thinking about my painful back or where I’m at with God or any of the other possible panic producers.

I decided to share, and it seems to help. The thunder’s past, my arms don’t feel funny, and I’m not worried at nothing. It’s just this strange, almost twilight of the night: 2:32. I ache a bit, which isn’t good, and I feel like moaning online is a bit sad.

I’d hate to meet me in the morning.