I am tired. Muscle, sinew, bone: I am depleted to my core. I am tired. This time last year, I was tired too. Reading back on my diary tells me so. It helps to remind myself this is a patten, not a symptom. I am nature. Although not rooted, I am plant in human form, … Continue reading Night Night, Sleep Tight
Awake too early. Body has not yet completed its knitting back together, the overnight update is incomplete, interrupted midway. Half-installed is as bad as nothing having been installed at all. If I do not fall back to sleep, I shall be dysfunctional the day long. Program corrupted. I lay the palm of one hand upon … Continue reading Awake Too Early
On my computer is a file named 'Interesting Writing Articles' in which I have saved snippets, essays, and interviews that I have read and liked. I knew there was one in there with Joan Didion, an interview with The Paris Review, which, following her death in December, I went back to read. The article is … Continue reading The Nightmare of Dreams
I had a secret sleep on the sofa yesterday afternoon. It snuck up on me. One moment I was sitting upright, reading, next moment, my head was melting into my shoulders like wax down a lit candle. I was subsiding and I did not resist the slide. I leaned into it, lay myself and the … Continue reading Day Bed
This happens to me every year: I sleep my head off in January. I wake up and it has rolled off during the night, usually under the bed, and I am so heavy with the remnants of lassitude that it takes me half an hour to reach down, scoop it up and screw it back … Continue reading Slumber Number
Today the traditional gift for mothers is one of flowers, perhaps supplemented with a box of chocolates or a scented candle. However, the one present many mums will value above all else - especially this weekend when the clock has left us rubbing our weary eyes – is one that cannot be tied with a … Continue reading The Greatest Gift
Friday’s vigorous washing and mopping of the stairs in my tenement resulted in me having an exercise hangover. It’s one of my quirks. Some years ago the doctor’s diagnosed me with chronic fatigue syndrome but it has since improved such that episodes like this are, thankfully, a rarity. I’m mildly fit, but fit for certain … Continue reading Fit For Nothing
I’m better. Pretty much. The fire in my head has been doused. T. told me to drink hot whiskey. I didn’t. Not because it wasn’t a good idea, I just forgot to uncork the bottle of Bush each evening. Y. suggested I gently tap below my eyes, from the bridge of my nose to my temples, tracing the … Continue reading Dream Angus
I’m in transit. Three horrible words: the act or fact of passing through; passage or conveyance from one place to another, as of persons or goods. This morning I’m definitely falling into the ‘goods’ category. I feel less of a person and more of a sack with a heartbeat. I feel like a DHL package, stuck … Continue reading In Transit
Ours was a late flight last night. It got us in well after midnight, and, with the final leg of the journey by car, I was falling into bed close to 3am. It was a deep sleep, the sleep of the travel-weary, the sleep of being back home (or one version of home). Not that I didn't … Continue reading Sleep
My Edinburgh Press 