It’s been a curious day, Pom-Pom my dear reader. Nippy, wet and dark like a crab on a rock on a dusky night in January.
At twenty past four this evening I boarded the bus to work, after being awake since around two thirty. So much for breakfast, lunch and a light dinner.
The experience is confusing – the shouting schoolkids on the bus, the darkness and the rain, the slow progress into town could all be a page straight from the regimented life of a nine-to-five office worker. Only it’s not.
I went to bed at 1am, woke up with my 10am alarm then rolled over until 2:30pm. This is not usual. My sleep us usually fitful from around 7am but not today. Am I sickening for something? Has my diet become so shockingly unbalanced that my body’s only response is to retreat into unconsciousness?
It’s a worry, gentle reader. I fear a gruff voice whispering in my ear: “You’re going down, Pom-Pom…”