Silly o’clock

It is silly o’clock in the morning and I cannot sleep.


I have been awake since five o’clock when the bedside radio ‘magically’ switched itself on.


Since then I have closed my eyes – but sleep will not find me.


I thought writing might help, soothe my soul which is clearly not at peace, but it is not working this morning.


I thought I might write a list of ingredients for things for the dinner party we are planning this evening. Said dinner party includes a vegetarian – so I need to thing of non-meat based dishes.


So far with my Lorraine Pascal – ‘A lighter way to bake’ – I have decided on a butternut squash quiche and mango salsa and coconut and lime cake.  The cake I have made a few weeks ago – with a little adjustment I think I can make it nicer this time. I am also going to cook some grilled lamb with humus and flatbreads. My lovely companion is going to make salad. So we shall see how that goes.


Still does not explain why I cannot sleep…


I guess old habits die hard. In my teenage years when I could not sleep – I would do exactly the same thing. I would get up – pick up my little green diary (given to me by my German exchange student) and creep downstairs into the living room.  I would then sit and write about all the things that would be troubling me at that age. It would definitely help me feel calmer. I guess when I look back at those days, the problems seem laughable, but that was life , twenty or so years ago. I wondered if I fancied myself as an Adrian Mole character or one the heroines from a Judy Blume book. The entry for that diary was 25th June 1991 and the last entry 30th July 2011. I have endeavoured to keep a diary every year. My cupboard in my spare room has a shelf full of diaries for every year from 1991 to 2012. I suppose when I am famous – somebody will want to publish my frantic adolescence scribblings – NOT! I am not sure the world really wants to hear about my teenage crushes, friend angst and internal pep talks. Reading through the diaries now – I am surprised to see that I really am the same person to a large extent. The issues are different but the approach is the same. I am not sure if this is a good thing – you know what they say “If you do what you have always done, you will get what you have always got”. But I think despite the apparent teenage despair, ‘A’ level anxiety, university panic, I was always hopeful. Always hopeful that the future would be brighter and better. I could write my way to calm and happiness. Not a bad thing I guess.


And now – will the tapping of the keyboard achieve the same thing 3 years before 40? I am not so sure, but I will continue to write.  I will continue to jot down my thoughts at silly o’clock in the morning – it does work – I feel better – night night!


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