I have insomnia again, which is why I am writing this at 1:50am instead of sleeping. I get it a lot, not persistent; it’s not a problem, mainly because I know exactly why I can’t sleep. The more I think the less I sleep, and sometimes I think a lot.
This Christmas has been a strange one, don’t get me wrong I had a good day, a lie in, a picnic in the park, drank too much, ate too much, had a few laughs and wore a stupid paper hat, but it wasn’t the same. I’m in Melbourne and things were just a little wrong, things that you have been brought up to expect suddenly aren’t there, it gives the whole proceedings a detached air, almost like an outer body experience. I mean people were wearing shorts; we were having a picnic, on Christmas Day, a picnic! There was no family, no traditions, the things that annoyed me about this time of year are suddenly the things I miss the most. Like the way my Mum always buys a strange selection of beers and spirits when for years I’ve only drunk wine and the way I have the same conversation with my Nan about three times. They say everyone has at least one Christmas or Birthday when you are on your own and, even though I wasn’t technically alone, this has felt like mine. At least I have the Boxing Day test to look forward to and some great friends in Melbourne to make me smile.
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