A quick little plea from the heart before I find my anti-histamine pills (as close as I get to sleeping pills) and drown them with decaf tea:
Please do not text me before 11am UK time.
I really need my sleep these days and it’s so difficult to come by.
I find it unusually difficult to fall asleep these days and if I’m woken up by an unusual noise – somebody knocking on the door, the phone ringing or, yes, a text message – I’m awake. Some days I manage to nap. Most days I do not.
Why do I keep my mobile by my bed? Firstly, because there might be an emergency and people should definitely contact me then! Secondly, because I might wake up feeling very bad and I need to be able to contact the outside world.
I love hearing from my friends but I also need to be able to function. And I need an enormous amount of sleep in order to function, alas.
Now I do hope that I’ll be able to get back to sleep soon because I have a brain scan lined up for today..
How good are you at recognising fonts? I got a measly 24 right out of 34. At least I still know my Helvetica from my Arial. It’s all in the curves, baby.
I have actually been watching quite a bit of TV lately. BBC4 is having a rather funky Medieval Season, so I’ve been lapping up programmes on Thomas Aquinas, Abelard and the aformentioned Stephen Fry & the Gutenberg Press (which was pr0ntastic, incidentally). I get to flap my arms around excitedly and repeatably which is really nice. TV, I forgive you your multitude of sins when you indulge me like this.
Finally, I’d like to thank everybody who asked for my mother. She was discharged from hospital on Tuesday and is back home again. It is a relief.
..you sit down on the sofa which bumps against the bookcase causing a Judoon figure to fall down on your head. You put the Judoon back on the shelf among the Doctor Who books (including the “Doctor Who & the Loch Ness Monster” book which you own because you live in Scotland). Then you rub your head and lean back .. making the Dalek pillow/hot-water-bottle cover spout “YOU WILL BE EXTERMINATED”. Startled, you make an escape to the kitchen where you feel like getting a refreshment. On the fridge eight different Doctor Who fridge magnets stare back at you.
Thank you, Live-In Boyfriend.
Me ma’s in hospital. Good vibes, please.
Following Friday’s unfortunate stroll, I decided I should probably take things easy. What brought it home? It was possibly the fact that when I passed out on Friday, I narrowly escaped having my forehead cut open thanks to broken glass lying on the ground. This time I was lucky and as for next time .. there will not be a next time. I’ll be taking things very, very easy from now on. No more marathon computer sessions, no more computer games and I’ll try very hard to squeeze as much sleep into my day as I possibly can.
I’m thirty-two, intelligent, out-going and occasionally I’m witty too. And some days I can’t even manage the five-minute walk up to the local supermarket. I have no idea what on earth is wrong with me and I am seemingly stuck in a slightly chaotic health care system (apologies to all Britons, but my experience of UK vs Danish heath care definitely gives the Danish heath care system the upper hand – and I’ve had some pretty dire experiences with Danish doctors in my time). Right now I feel as though my doctor is expecting me to give her a diagnosis – not the other way around. It’s quite, quite frustrating.
Also, I am suffering from cabin fever. Know what it’s like being stuck in bed with a cold for a week? Try imagining yourself stuck in that situation for a few months. I’ve begun knitting. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy it but I knit whilst watching Crufts, for heaven’s sake. And I wear slippers an awful lot. It is as though my life has decided to skip straight to me being eighty-four.
+ A worrying family situation has improved.
+ Other Half has taken up making ice-cream. He is very good at this.
+ Friends and family send me beautiful, beautiful yarn.
+ Doctor Who is back on TV! AND the Ofishul Doctor Who exhibition is coming to Glasgow next year!
+ Elbow’s latest album, The Seldom Seen Kid makes me beam.
+ And the daffodils are in bloom, so even if I end up with my face flat on the ground, I can look at pretty things.
Bad Things Not Mentioned Thus Far:
+ I try to knit fingerless gloves for Other Half (using organic Scottish wool – locally sourced too – gosh, I’m such a Guardian reader, am I not?) but I end up hating every thing I knit and frog it mercilessly. Grrr..
I finally got hold of Alex Lloyd‘s third album, Distant Light the other day. It’s the aural equivalent of me snuggling up in a blanket on a spring day: it’s invigourating but also deeply comforting. However, most days I’m listening to Canadian band Alaska in Winter – their album continues to worm its way into my ears.
And most days I am passing time by harking back to my roots. My grandmother sews, knits, crochets, embroiders and works with paper; my mother crochets, works with paper and even writes songs; my uncle P. paints, does graphic design and builds small castles in his back garden.. you get the picture. We are a creative bunch. I can sew, knit, crochet, do calligraphy, work with paper, paint and dabble in photography with quite good results. Right now I crochet and am re-discovering my love for textiles, textures and multi-dimensional shapes. It is exciting to see something I have in my head suddenly begin to appear between my hands just through using a hook and some scrap yarn. Exciting, I tell you!
And then you get people who think of crocheting as a mathematical exercise. The Institure for Figuring has an entire subsite dealing with Hyperbolic Space. It’s actually really damn cool:
We have created a world of rectilinearity. The rooms we inhabit, the skyscrapers we work in, the grid-like arrangement of our streets, the shelves on which we store our possessions, and the freeways we cruise on our daily commute speak to us in straight lines. But what exactly is a straight line? And how do such “objects” relate to one another?
This question, so seemingly trivial, lies at the heart of a conundrum that dates back to the dawn of the Western mathematical tradition. Though seemingly obvious, the property of “straightness” turns out to be a subtle and surprisingly fecund concept. Understanding this quality ultimately led mathematicians to discover a radical new kind of space that had hitherto seemed abhorrent and impossible.
If you can read Danish, it might amuse you to know that the editor of Bogrummet (The Book Room) is my cousin. I sorta-kinda-almost knew what she had been doing with her time, but it had sorta-kinda-almost slipped my mind.
It’s still very cool and utterly amusing in a absolutely-definitely way.