Post 542: I need some sleep, please let me sleep.
Part of the problem with sleep deprivation is having too much on your mind and not wanting to sleep. I think that’s where I am and I’ll be able to deal with that myself, it’s a self inflicted mental illness that holds onto the time I have and uses it in a very poor and unhealthy way.
The other thing is that I e got used to it and like the elasticity of the day. What I mean there is that because I’ve no real expectation or adventure on any one day makes it a day when I can do anything I like.
Those might actually be the same thing but I see them as slightly different. I’m just happy to be writing again.
Talking of writing, I did today catch up with the homework for the U3A this month, that’s the creative writing group’s homework about “An account of you taking part in a Carnival procession." - describing what you see and hear, and the excitement (or otherwise) of the whole experience.
(Briefly, I chose an iconic night to write about, which is copied below.)
Looking at the fancy round pin badge I found in the office drawer, I’m reminded of a very special event of my youth…
Rows and rows of coaches arrived at the temporary gravel parking areas, chaperoned by police. Getting out of the grubby, stuffy, hot coaches for another carnival parade was all anyone wanted. Sadly, our escape from these hell-on-wheels was slowed to a sweaty standstill by everyone blocking the central aisle, but eventually we all got off with our bags of snacks and water for the long night ahead.
Little Russ was only eight and easily lost in strange places. Even adults were prone to wandering off, but theirs was usually a brown ale or a fag, not getting lost because they were little! The evening was dry, always a good start, even if this was a “one night only” event in June, rather than our usual September to November season. At least it was warm, replacing our usual shivering with sweating!
For this special evening we wore the flashy Spanish costumes Uckfield Carnival Society had that year, with pretty sequins glinting on our jackets and trousers and little white balls bobbing on the edges of our Bolero hats with every head movement. Our thirty-strong group looked fabulous in the fading sunlight.
Mum, my little brother, big sister and I were corralled by organisers handing out torches that reeked of petrol, along with instructions to line up. We were gathering at a castle, impressive but sadly out of bounds for exploring. Before a uniformed chap, his chest covered in medals, shouted the order to go, we were already choking on the fumes. Then suddenly, we were off!
The bands struck up, torches blazed, and everyone chattered about our destination and the precise time we had to arrive. Sis and I took turns holding little Russ, and all was well. I’d never seen so many societies, their banners held high by the strongest men at the front, followed by a colourful mass of people with prams and pushchairs, from tiny babies to great-granddads. This was crazy! I felt lucky to be part of this huge display of East and West Sussex’s finest paraders.
With every step we neared a huge bonfire. Organisers helped us launch our torches towards the roaring flames, then hurried us away from the heat and swirling smoke. It was even harder to keep hold of little Russ, who wanted to dash off and explore this fantastic night.
Soon HRH the Queen would arrive to light the very first beacon, part of an old-fashioned communication system linking beacons around the British Isles. For this was June 6th, 1977, the Silver Jubilee celebration at Windsor Castle, a night I have never forgotten.
———
All I’ll say is that we kids had much adult stuff to put up with but, on the whole we were loved by our Mum who made time to see us more when we were younger.
It’s only now looking back I can see that. Thanks Mum. 
This morning was an eating fest and when I wasn’t eating I was fully engaged with the U3A home-work I was working on an open poems about myself or making in-roads to my life’s work “I’m ok, are you?
But seriously, the other wedge of time I’ve escalated-forget here is the time I’m watching tv.
What else can I do? I usually by Her
Little else. But add that it’s not hard to sit and let AFib do its thing in its newest guise. It seems that chatting is best.
Tomorrow morning will be the third session of counselling for me at the Hospice.
I think I need these sCccessions to understand where my head is currently.
I mostly feel ok and am not often in a soulless funk.
Sometimes it’s easy to see the problems but other times it is hard to you look under tChe bed where all the monsters are.
The following day, Tuesday I’m back in the parlour getting the first inroads for the right arm wildlife sleeve.
How that will turn out is a mystery and a pleasant one at that.
Anyway, I’m going back to sleep for a while. I’m tired of going around in circles, and my constipation is the last thing I want to chat about but must. It’s something I must medicate now not later. I’ve been lazy lately and it’s not good for me. I have a solid belly of overweightness I hate and is terribly uncomfortable.
I’ve brushed it off as usual, in my head, and figured there’s no problem, I need to take it more seriously or else I’ll be taken away to have it done for me and that’s to be avoided.
Ramble over.
I need to sleep.
Take care,
My I’m exhausted.
