Some of you may know that my sleeping pattern can get pretty dodgy. When there’s no incentive to get up, I simply don’t get up (until late anyway). So summer holidays can be a bit of a nightmare, especially if they last over a third of the year as this one has. I’m a nightowl anyway, but it just gets ridiculous during summer, and at a certain stage I fall asleep during daylight more often than I fall asleep during the dark.
And then I sleep on and on and on. At the moment I’m averaging about ten hours a day. I think this is officially unhealthy. I have less time to be out in the fresh air. I eat less. I do less. I be less. I am officially less of a person during the summer. Because basically I have no reason to be at all.
It’s actually quite worrying. I sleep for about ten hours a day, and for those few hours that I am awake I am so tired and lacking energy that I might as well be asleep.
I do try to set the alarm but it just doesn’t work. Sure it wakes me up (not that I always remember it), but I just get up, switch it off, and dive back into bed again (placing the alarm clock at the opposite side of the room doesn’t work), and immediately I fall asleep and have a random nightmare, probably about trains.
Well all that’s going to change in less than a month. In just three weeks university starts up again. I want to avoid the sort of thing that often happened last year, when I would stumbled around with so little grace that I might as well have been turned inside out. I’m sure that at some stage people will have thought I was drunk. Speaking to people was a bloody nightmare.
Acquaintance: Hi, Duncan! I’d like you to meet my friend, Random Person X.
Random Person X: Hello, nice to meet you.
Me: Hrbblurrrhrgh. Phmmggmgmgmgns. Essay. Rrrr,gh,g,ggm’ii. Bye.
So I’ve got to gently transform myself from a zombie that emerges at about 2:30pm into the early bird that gets up before 8am, in a manner that won’t turn me insane, in the space of three weeks.
Or so I thought.
You see, I am a fan of Sigur Rós, and their new album comes out on the 12th of September. And I’ve been waiting three years for a new Sigur Rós album, so I am not prepared to wait any longer than that. And you can bet that if I order it from somewhere like Amazon that it will arrive weeks late. But I live in Kirkcaldy, where there are no longer any decent music shops, unless you count Woolworths, which you don’t.
My brother recently passed his driving test. So I hatched a plan to get him to give me a lift to nearby Glenrothes where I will hopefully be able to find lovely CDs. I thought I’d be able to emerge out of bed whenever I wanted and turn up at Glenrothes in fifteen minutes.
Oh no. My brother’s got fresher’s week starting on exactly the same day and for some reason — don’t ask me — he wants to go along and join the party and be a fresher and probably sign a few important forms or something. The selfish bastard.
So I’ve got to get up at 8:30am in two weeks’ time so that he can get on with his own life instead of carting me about in search of a CD by an Icelandic one-eyed homosexual who plays his guitar with a cello bow and sings in falsetto.
Shop assistant: Ah, Sigur Rós. Great band, aren’t they? …… Er, do you have an MVC card?