The Love Cats
Sleep is an evil bitch. I can remember being about 4 and wondering why I was awake at stupid o’clock. I get terrible travel anxiety too. And put me in bed with another person (for sleep purposes) and I have a living nightmare. Bizarre as sex is a great way to get me to sleep. I do remember Simon Mayo complaining about lack of sleep on one of his Radio 1 shows. Zoe Ball suggested to him that a little self-loving would help. The blushing and admiration from Mr Mayo was palpable over the airways. I still suspect he takes her advice.
Many things induce sleep for me. Alcohol being the most obvious. I love almost all kinds, rum being the main exception. But I have rules. I can drink from noon until noon again but cannot comprehend cheap Australian sherry for breakfast. My main house rule is not to start drinking before starting to cook the evening meal. I am very lucky to have many friends young enough to be my children/grandchildren. Yet have never understood, bereavement, stress & depression aside, why anyone should want to get shit-faced the minute they wake up.
I can use food to help me sleep. A carb-loaded heavy meal can have me taking a nana-nap no probs. So can being in a moving car. Not a good combination when the Rottweiler step-mother has force-fed me a Sunday dinner full of watery vegetables and processed food. Some of my best sleep has taken place at Leicester Forest East Services on the M1. I really quite like my driving-induced power naps.
As with Zoe Ball, I know the power of a sex-fuelled sleep. If I fall asleep afterwards it’s a compliment, and I’ve endured being ‘drilled’ by counting backwards from 100 in French just to stay awake during the act. But I love being comfortable enough with a lover that I can wake him up in the middle of the night, we have sex and then fall into a contented sleep.
Drugs can aid sleep too. The occasional jazz fag can work wonders on me. Hard-core pammies are not 100% reliable. And Zopiclone - it may not be addictive but it really does leave me with me a very nasty taste in the morning. Old-school drowsy antihistamines or fuck-off painkillers far more reliable. Combined with alcohol ( I like to think the method in my madness is akin to making cocktails). As my so-called psychiatrist would say - it’s all about the titration.
And as for exercise - my eyes are rollong. I know that exercise before going to sleep is not recommended. All those endorphins, Mother Nature’s version of Class As, buzzing about the body. Don’t get me started on noise. A flea could fart and I’d wake up. Living next door to a petrol-head doesn’t help. A Mitsubishi Evolve VIII starting up has the very Victorian foundations shaking. Super-size me with a taxi driver too lazy to knock on the front door and I’m awake four hours after going to bed.
Right - am off to bed, perchance to sleep. Drugs & alcohol have been involved. I’m also hoping for the therapeutic effects of blogging. Here goes………
