I've not felt much like writing recently and indeed have little to write about. But I'm wondering if my head has some sort of word storage compartment in it and left unemptied, it just gets more and more cramped and confused in there. Like a water tank, left unused it seems to fill up to the brim then rapidly overflow. And just like a water tank it chooses the most inconvenient times to spill over.

I was out all day yesterday, tired and a little overwrought by late evening and perfectly aware I needed a good night's sleep. I tried tossing and turning for around half an hour next to the fifty-six piece brass band in the other half of the bed, but all to no avail. Reluctantly I moved to the spare bedroom.

My neck was aching, my heart rate too rapid, but I attempted to relax. I became aware my brain was thinking about my Mum, as it does at least once an hour, but I didn't want to become upset, so tried to empty my thoughts. That's when the songs kicked in but this time, nothing from the charts or my favourites. Having looked after the grandmonsters all last weekend renditions of 'If you're happy and you know it,' 'Heads, shoulders, knees and toes,' and 'Daddy's taking us to the zoo tomorrow,' rattled round my bonce.

I turned over, tried again then realised my thoughts had wandered to my son and his family and I relived the whole bizarre event all over again. Concerns will never completely disappear but I can't allow it to eat away at me. I visited the loo, climbed back in bed and tried once more.

Minutes or even hours passed. I became conscious I'd been thinking about all my family and friends from the past, boyfriends I did and didn't make a mistake with, wondering what they're all doing now and pondering why some are no longer on the mortal coil. Then I started wondering why I still am, how long I have left, what it's all about Alfie and why the hell I couldn't sleep.

Next, I was back at work, thinking about days in the classroom, people I worked with, kids I taught, some no longer here and the traumas leading up to my leaving. Problems since retiring buzzed through my brain at a rapid rate of knots and I realised sleep was not an option, no matter how tired I felt.

I got up, made a warm drink and finished reading a book. Rather an unsatisfactory ending, but then much in life is n'est pas? I started reading a new novel, then realised if I went back to bed with two novel plots bombarding my weary brain cell I'd probably never sleep. The brass bands had started a new concerto at an even higher level of volume, so I crawled back into my single bed and suddenly felt so alone.

Over the next hour or so I think I mentally relived my whole life. The highs, but mostly the lows. The good times, but mostly the bad. The successes, but mostly the failures. The choices, but mostly the regrets. It's a good job it's not been a really eventful life or I'd probably still be there now. I hate my negativity but don't seem to have any control over what thoughts invade my weary head in the wee small hours. Maybe it's just S.A.D. Been there before and with luck will be again.

Strangely enough I didn't feel too bad this morning and have been more energetic today than of late. But I am really tired again now, so maybe now I've emptied the word tank a little I'll be able to sleep better tonight. If I could channel all the jumbled, chaotic and confusing words that invade my head in the sleepless hours I'd manage a NaNo every month of the year. But maybe it's a good job I can't as they'd make crap novels.