I’m not particularly good at the whole sleeping thing at the best of times (my mind is just too active, and is always reluctant to shut down at the end of the day – I envy people who can just switch off), and I was stupid enough to let my sleep patterns get seriously messed up over the Christmas break, so now I’m back at work I’m struggling to get my sleep back to normal again. So despite going to bed at sensible times this week, I haven’t been able to get to sleep until very late, which means I wake up (reluctantly) still tired, which messes up my sleep the next night even more (because I get a headache from being over-tired, which makes it more difficult to sleep, plus of course I start worrying about the fact I’m not sleeping because I know how tired I’ll feel in the morning, and the worrying keeps me awake…) I know from past experience I’ll settle down into normal sleep patterns again after a few more days, but it’s not pleasant in the meantime. I’m just glad it’s a short week this week!

The whole sleeping thing wasn’t helped last night by the fact that sometime in the small hours (I didn’t look at the clock to find out exactly when, because it would have made me feel even worse), once I’d finally managed to fall asleep, I was woken up again by a huge thunderstorm. I was kind of amused by it though, because I’d been dreaming that my brother had come to visit and was playing bowls in our hallway (as far as I know my brother has never played bowls, but that’s dreams for you), and woke up to discover that the rumbling crashing noises were actually thunderclaps, not bowls after all 🙂

So I’m a bit zombified this morning, but at least it’s Friday…

I think it’s my father’s 60th birthday tomorrow. I know that’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to know (and make a big deal about), but Dad’s never made a fuss about his birthday (being so close to Christmas and New Year, everyone’s always sick of partying by the time his birthday comes along, and Dad just hates people making a fuss of him anyway), so while I know it’s definitely his birthday, I’m just not sure about the year. I’ll find out when I ring him to say Happy Birthday (which is a gift he’ll appreciate much more than anything material I could give him – he really is someone who’s got it all).

It’s weird thinking about Dad being 60. You never really think about your parents being old – in my mind, mine are in their 30s (it’s funny how you have an age you associate with family members, which you automatically think of them as being – I think my parents are 30-something (probably because that’s the age they were when I first realised that parents are real people too, and have identifying characteristics like age), and my brother is eternally 19 (again, probably because that’s the age when he stopped being my bratty little brother and started being a human being in his own right)). Of course, I *know* they can’t be in their 30s, but even then I still think early 50s at the most, until I do a bit of arithmetic with years and come to such a shocking result. 60 just seems so old – and Dad’s definitely not old – he’s always been so incredibly active (he only just gave up doing the Coast to Coast race a few years ago, and that wasn’t because he felt too old for it, but more because it was becoming a chore rather than fun). And the thought that next year Mum will be 60 is even weirder. She looks about 40 (we would easily pass for sisters, apart from the fact that we don’t really look alike), and although she’s technically retired, that doesn’t mean she’s *old* (in fact, she hardly ever uses the word “retired” – she always just says she’s “given up work”). But then Mum’s one of those lucky people who will probably never look her age – I’m sure when she’s 90 people will still be acting shocked when she says she’s a grandmother.

Currently reading: Diary by Chuck Palahnuik

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