i.e. Out of the depths of a steaming sleeping disorder. Not quite insomnia, as I get around 8 hours sleep in the 24, but if those are 3-5 a.m., 10-12 a.m. and 3-7 p.m. it doesn't help a lot in getting much done. In the morning and afternoon waking sessions I'm too whacked to concentrate, and in the evening one I'm so discombobulated that alcohol is the only answer. And of course I need all my wits about me for moving house, doing all the blasted Crimbo stuff, and beating back the threat of the Queen Bitch to steal all my money with judicial help.
Anyway, can't argue with today. My late father's 76th birthday; an utter bugger that he isn't here to enjoy it. A Christmas carol concert this evening, with self on first tenor. And returning to find Liverpool have thrashed Marseilles (yes, that is how you spell it in English, and it's pronounced Mar-sails) 4-0 and made the Champions League knock-out stages. Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis. It always maddens me to see this translated "Peace on earth, goodwill to all men". Bollocks. It's "Peace on earth to all men (and women) of good will". And, one is surely allowed to infer, ceaseless war on men and women of the other sort.
Meanwhile the Iron Buddha has started calling me "Albert", on the grounds that my increasingly uncontrollable hair, though not necessarily what lies under it, reminds her of the great Einstein.
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