lockdown sleeping pattern and a new book
It's not a case of sleep deprivation - I'm sleeping more than ever, actually - but more a case of sleep relocation with a lot of my sleep taking up residence in my abundant daytime space. The siestas are becoming much too copious to be considered healthy and it's something I'm determined to change, but not tomorrow - which is today - as it is now 4.51am and I'm blogging. I've been awake for three hours, which is the same number of Cadbury's Purple Snacks I've eaten - there's no place like diabetes, there's no place like diabetes - along with a coffee with frothed milk from the miroco machine Katie & David gave me for Christmas, and some toasted batch with cheese, so that whenever I do fall asleep I will have nightmares. Right now, this feels like a waking nightmare. Ah no, I'm only lettin' on in the game. I'm feeling good, right now.
I returned to my next book earlier, made a couple of changes and experienced a feeling that's been missing from my day to day life for far too long; that feeling that comes with writing what I feel is something good. It can be a good line, a good paragraph or a good page. I've missed that feeling. I'm glad my brain is no longer swollen or at least not as swollen.
My book is based on my experience in Drimnagh Castle. I think my story will resonate with past pupils of that establishment and past pupils of any C.B.S. If you don't know what C.B.S. stands for, consider yourself lucky.
Here's page one:
Our formative years can twist, bend and shape us. Some people believe that, and in some cases I imagine it’s a valid theory. I’m not sure it applied to me. I’ve tried the psychoanalysis. I’ve gone back through the early years trying to find someone to blame or some reason why I turned out the way I did. I found the reason, eventually. There was no one to blame; not even me, despite the countless weirdos and neurologically challenged people I had to deal with in my younger days. I couldn’t have known it at the time, but I came into the world as a people pleaser.
Being a people pleaser is not a good trait because, generally, people are arseholes. Even the ‘nice’ ones, if given enough time will prove themselves to be not worth the effort. I’m an old man, well, I’ve just passed my mid-fifties, which are the new mid-forties if you believe that kind of shite. I learned to stop people pleasing along the way, but as a very young child there was nothing I found more rewarding than pleasing people in general and my parents in particular, well, my mother. My mother had one burning ambition. I can’t know, but she probably mentioned it to me while I was in the womb. She wanted her only son to go to the best school in Dublin, the best school in Ireland. The Castle.
Click here for my other books.
It's hard to maintain a semblance of sanity under the current regime. I imagine I look quite normal as I take my daily stroll/strolls around Stephen's Green, but on the inside I'm going as mad as most. It's 5.13am. It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world, right now.