… thing!
Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that on three or four occasions, I’ve found myself being awoken by a phantom alarm. And on one occasion, I was even up and out of bed before I realised that it was a false alarm.
But what happened this morning was far, far more bizarre than that. However, you’ll have to read on to find out what it was.
Last night, although I made a determined effort, it was almost 23:30 when I finally crawled into bed, totally fed up of the day and everything like that. And surprisingly, it took me an age to go off to sleep.
And now we come to the exciting bit.
But what was interesting about this is that usually, when there’s a phantom alarm going off, I really do “hear” it in my sleep, even though it doesn’t ring. Last night, though, I heard nothing and awoke spontaneously, and there I was, already sitting on the edge of the bed. It was completely bizarre.
Anyway, I went back to bed, and as far as I know, although you can never be sure, the way things are today, I didn’t wake up again until the alarm rang.
When the alarm went off, we had the usual dithering while I tried to find some enthusiasm from somewhere, but eventually I managed to find my way into the bathroom for a really good wash and shave in the unlikely event that I see Emilie the Cute Consultant this afternoon.
Back in here, I listened to what else was on the dictaphone from last night.
So, back in London yet again. How many times is this? And quite recently we’ve been in a high building just like this hospital building, only then it was a university dormitory.
However, in this dream, Crewe town centre was magnificent, all glass and black metal framing. And the tower block where British Home Stores used to be was raised on a central pole above a two-storey row of shops on the corner and looked from the outside like one black metal inverted rectangle framework with rounded corners, with a huge single glass window. The glass was frosted so you couldn’t see in from the outside, but it looked wonderful.
The nurse turned up early, and he talked about the “race of the café waiters” yesterday in the town as he dealt with my feet and legs. The race, so he told me, is for waiters from the cafés in the town who have to run round a course in the town centre while carrying a tray with a bottle and some glasses on it. It’s hilarious, so I was told.
After he left, I made my breakfast, and while I was eating, I was reading some more of A HISTORY OF ARCHITECTURE by Charles Freeman.
He’s keeping out of controversy again today, but still banging the jingoistic drum as loud as he can at every possible opportunity.
Back in here, there were things to do, and then when they were finished, I reviewed the next radio programme and sent it off for inclusion in the stream for Friday.
And then we had the real work.
TO BE CONTINUED
