Sphinx

Woken by a powerful, disturbing dream, in which I have had to organise some sort of awayday for graduate students, arrive at the venue to unpack everything and take over the room from the previous group punctually at half past six ready for dinner – only for the leader of that group, unmistakeably Prof. Pat Porter of the University of Birmingham, to say “Thanks for the food, Nev, we’ll see you at six thirty tomorrow morning.” I am positive that I haven’t misbooked this session, but there’s nothing I can do; A. is now berating me for letting everyone down – I have no idea what she’s doing here – and so I rush downstairs to catch up with everyone to apologise, and can’t find anyone. The strangest thing is that the logo for the Porter group is a dove of peace, which doesn’t seem very Realist at all… (more…)

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Woken marginally before the alarm went by A. putting the radio on – she has an even earlier start than usual, with a quick appointment for a routine blood test before heading into work. Got up to do last night’s washing up, remember to take a bread roll out of the freezer for her lunch and make tea; thick head full of phlegm, as the cold that’s been hanging around for the last couple of days seems to be coming out. Cats are still being very weird after Hans’s death last week; Hector briefly sits next to us then makes a grumpy noise and jumps up onto the wardrobe, which Olga takes as a cue to disappear under my legs under the duvet. News full of stupidity; apparently Lee Anderson is the true beating heart of Conservatism – which would actually confirm a lot of entrenched prejudices about the Tories, if one thought most of these unnamed MPs were entirely sincere, rather than sharing his prejudices but quietly sneering at his vulgarity. (more…)

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A disturbed night full of strange dreams – definitely embroiled in some sort of complex academic scandal and a lot of uncomfortable secrets – I think I was whistle-blower rather than culprit – crossed with complex navigation of the public transport system in a strange city. Around half five – so, normal getting-up time in the week, but not what was hoped for on a Saturday – emerged close enough to consciousness that A. turning on her iPad to read was enough to wake me completely. She put the radio on, and I tried and failed to get back to sleep to an accompaniment of Philippa Forrester talking about otters and invasive crayfish (more…)

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The run of bad nights continues; waking some time around three or four (with some part of my brain being already awake, recognising that the rest of me is starting to wake and trying desperately to stop it, to no avail) and then just having to doze until the alarm goes a couple of hours later as everything else kicks in – work, horrific state of the world, general feelings of utter inadequacy in the face of the first two. And as ever Hans recognises that I’m not asleep – we do share some strange bond, whereby if one of us is disturbed at night the other is too, and not just because he resorts to prodding me and prowling to get attention – and expects some fuss; he does settle down quite quickly in the crook of my arm, but it means I can’t now move. And then the chihuahuas downstairs start whining… (more…)

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Woke some time in the small hours choking on phlegm; it seems very unfair that, having spent most of last week struggling through a really nasty summer cold, I seem to be coming straight down with another one, despite copious consumption of fruit and vegetables. Perhaps it’s a judgement for giving away so many courgettes because A. was bored of courgettes for supper. Perhaps it’s psychosomatic, giving me an excuse for failure to make much progress with the book. Managed to get back to sleep until around five, when Hans started his routine of prowling, grumbling, making strange scraping noises to suggest that he might have pissed somewhere, and rattling the food bowl. Eventually he settled down again, stretching out all along my spine with his tail swiping the backs of my thighs – at which point the alarm went. Washed dishes, cleaned up assorted bits of poo – reminding myself that cats dropping poo round the house is better than cats having to have expensive operations to deal with constipation – and made tea. (more…)

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