Inpursuitof

I think we are destined, as folks just the right side of a coma, to be tired from the age of 11. Beautifully, scientists have proven that we need more sleep just as we are starting to push the boundaries of bedtimes or curfews, and from there an overdraft facility is arranged with the Bank of Sleep. The overdraft creeps up in increments until, really, you need to take out a loan from the Caffeine Shark to keep the sheep from your eyes. You start to pay back little bits, become giddy with sudden alertness, overspend and end up remortgaging the house and selling one of the kids to. desperately. try. to. stay. awake.

Recently, even on the very rare occasion I make it to bed for a solid installment of sleep, some tiny monster in my ear wakes me up every 2 hours. Don’t get me wrong, I luxuriate in the feeling of ‘oh god, I’m awake, it’s got to be too early. Hallelujah, it is’ as much as the next insomniac, but give me a break.

The only thing I can possibly attribute it to is my impending move of address and the whirlwind of infinite logistics that come along with it. Particularly with our imbecilic letting agents. I was determined not to allow any sort of misstep or c*ck up to occurr, partly so as not to sully the beauty of our first place together but mostly because it’s such a damn cliche. Everyone has a horror story to tell about greedy/lazy/ugly/hyperbolic/justplainstupid property people and to that end I thought I’d double-check every tiny detail. Call me anal, I prefer my name but I’ll pretty much respond to anything said with enough force.

In the end, it has emerged that they had ‘mistakenly’ tried to move us in while the current tenants were still legally occupying the property, apparently hoping that we wouldn’t notice. I mean, what??? What’s wrong with you?? This is what we are paying you violent amounts of money not to do. I’m sorry if you’re one of these people and you’re reading this: I don’t doubt your competency as a person, just between the hours of 9 and 5 (but not on weekend, you want to make people take time off of work to see you. I get it, it makes you feel special).

So I’m moving out of my house at the weekend to begin three weeks of nomadic, suitcase-based wanderings. If I’m honest, I’m just looking forward to the sleep.

1) Clamber. Go on, try to figure that out.

2) £2.20 to the boy trying to get on the bus without any money. He was probably on the con, but it was cold outside and he said things like ‘big man ting’ that made me feel down with the kids.

3) The woman who made eye-contact at me to laugh at the boys on the train (in our heads. They were only eleven but you never know)