This is my second attempt to write this post, this time without the uncooperative image i was trying to use.
Lying on my bed reading 10 minutes ago, on the verge of dropping off to sleep - not much sleep last night and a hard morning's brass cleaning - there was first of all, an ear-shattering noise, followed by a police helicopter flying so low, and so close to the window, I wondered if the pilot could read my book.
Ha, I thought, clearly i am not intended to take it easy today, I know, I've got a picture of a helicopter in my computer (not downloaded by me I hasten to add), this is a chance to use it.
The image in question is of a military war machine, an appache, if I remember correctly, but it would have served a purpose.
Why is it, whenever I try to be clever, the wretched computer outsmarts me every time. Please don't answer that.
Sleep, for me, is the impossible dream. Elusive, fragmentary, only really ever easy to achieve at the wrong moment. Like the occasion in my last year at work, when called to a staff meeting in mid-afternoon, having very unusually for me, had a whisky in the blue lion over the road at lunch time. The CEO's voice, soft and with a 'Highland' burr, had been going on at length, the room was warm, there were too many people using too little oxygen and I nodded off.
A jab in the ribs from my neighbour brought me swiftly to wide-eyed attention to muffled giggles from those nearest. "I'm sorry to bore you Mrs barnes" came the sarcastic tones of the not-very amused CEO.
Blushing and apologising I muttered something about the heat of the room and thought that was that, until leaving on my way back to my office, he leaned over from his imposing 6'6'' and said "more water with it next time".
Luckily, he had a sense of humour, and out of the office we were on good terms, but how he knew where I'd spent my lunch break I've no idea.
In case anyone should think this was how I spent my working life I would say, hand on heart, it was a rare break with tradition and one I did not repeat.