After the happenings of the past few days, one wonders if it’s time for another rest. In fact, over the weekend while over in Manchester, wandering around, commenting about things out of place and perhaps causing concern by disappearing rather earlier than expected during a party celebrating Mr Tebbutt’s survival of yet another year on this planet, a theme of sleepiness crept in through the cap flap.

There are some other factors involved, such as during a visit to some friends’ house (Thank you Mark and Avisha) where a jam session between two members of a band to be took place along with eating lots of curry type food, it lasted till about 3am, which after a train ride up north doesn’t bode well for someone wanting to stay awake.

And then the head of the 25 year old in age, 90 year old in body, lord hit the pillow and something occurred which some would say is business as usual, where others would scream in terror at the thought of what happened next. No there was no naughty things which make god cry, I fell into a deep sleep.

So much sleep in those few hours compared to the last few weeks with so many nights being so restless, it now almost seems strange. You see, one of the things in recent times that I have had to get used to is the idea of not much sleep.

Just being down in London, even being locked in the cardboard box where most reside along with 17 other people, it feels almost as if you have to use every minute of “the eyes open” bit,( I’m sure there’s a fancy word for it but I can’t spell it) to do whatever you have to do for the next day and in turn that slowly but surely tires you out at first, then you start getting used to it, then when you have a sleep in one day, and it basically screws you up.

You become as effective as patrol being used to put out fires.

Saturday for instance, was a strange sort of state fading in-between being awake to being special; with the peak of inefficiency being reached during a round at Tesco’s where I kept wandering off wondering what shiny things are down a corridor.

In many ways, you were not getting the Lord of Leisure at his best, and given the reasons why here right now, it does give pause for thought. Is this what’s going to keep happening whenever London is left behind?

I will end this entry with one final note for Mr. Tebbutt: Sorry mate, I’ll do better next time.