My Life on a Plate

No Peace For The Wicked

What an awful night. Brass bands quickly started up in the double bed again, so I escaped to the back bedroom to toss and turn, despite feeling exhausted.It takes a lot of will power to resist getting up again for another drink and cigarette. Lying awake is just SO boring. Eventually I sleep, only to dream of dying dogs, viscious crocodiles and a sexual encounter with my ex boss. (at least it was the male one!) I wonder if I'm wired up wrongly or just a head case. Must remember to look them up in my dream book later. I jolt awake several times, worrying about my parents, my health, my future. Pains in the back of my head convince me I'm about to have a stroke; the sore throat and wheeze that I have lung cancer. Don't worry, I'm not always this cheerful. Then the man noises begin. Cough and fart, cough and fart - that's the way the mornings start. My poetic side awakes. Too early for me but no chance of slipping back. Maybe I'll include a bed in that writing shed.

So, after a hectic Tuesday, here beginneth Wednesday. Swimming day with Big Pam. A tip for the ladies; if you're going to go swimming, always go with a big friend. Yesterday, a hippo stared back at me from the shop mirror when I tried on some jeans. (I put them back with yet another promise to start dieting) Today, I'll feel like a delicate water nymph next to Pam. We met at ante-natal classes twenty something years ago and we've been friends ever since. Strange really, as we have little in common, chalk and cheese in fact. She calls me her 'good time girl friend.' Not because I have a good time but because she says I would if I could get away with it. She knows me well. lol I often think Pam would make a brilliant protaganist for a novel; she's not over-educated or flambouyant, just very ordinary yet extraordinary, simple yet complex. She's had a tough life too; particularly when one of her daughters commited suicide at nineteen, for no apparent reason. Pam spends a lot of time soul-searching as to why, but I fear she'll never know. We sometimes visit Mediums together; more on that another time maybe. We talk a lot while we swim; to be honest Pam does most of the talking but I hope I'm a good listener.
Better move though now or I'll be late. I think I could give that white rabbit a run for his money lately.