I'm in a better mood than that: I think my sleep patterns might finally be back to normal.
Oh I'm tentative, sure. And as summer approaches, I'm nervous about it recurring, but on the whole I've been as unwakeable as Rip Van Winkle with a bottle of Dreamy Sleepy Nighty Snoozy Snooze.
In fact, I've been dreaming.
It struck me this morning that you can't really dream until you know how to rest.
I didn't intend it to sound like a ham-fisted proverb, but when the words formed themselves, it sounded half-wise, so I wrote them down.
That's why, I think, days off from everything are so important - they give you the space you need to down-tools, defocus, and let your mind fly.
The more I think about it now, the more I see it as a massive key to creativity - maybe it's obvious - we gain our inspiration by stopping and listening to the wind, by resting beneath the stars or imagining what lies beyond them. We literally take time to breathe. You can't really do that if you're living in a sleepless, stressful whirlwind.
The fountain exploded into life, and suddenly cascading arcs of white water were rippling into the lake. There were a few specks of rain in the air and those same castle-grey clouds scudded by above the angled rooftops of the business park.
I yawned as I wrapped my coat around me. You need more sleep, said a part of my brain like a reflex. I laughed at myself and went back inside.
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