This morning I woke up only reluctantly in my little Premier Inn bed. The alarm felt too soon. I felt far from rested. My sleep had been active and dream laden, likely as my brain was dumping all the Shakespeare to try to remember the facilitation.
At 8.25 I was already trying to make sense of unfamiliar technology. By 9 I was in full active mode, throwing out all the energy, seeing what came back. Three two hour workshops back to back. Thankfully real coffee at elevenses and pasta bake for lunch. Nonetheless when I was done I didn’t take into account how tired I was until half way to London.
I’ll tell you that my stamina for driving is exceptional, because it usually is. Today though, suddenly, I was borderline narcoleptic in my car. Radio 4 wasn’t helping with Today in Parliament. The heat likely wasn’t helping either, and neither was the sugar crash from having shoved most of a packet of Oreo cookies into my face as I exited Leicester. Droopy head and I was on a motorway. Eyes defocusing. Not fit to drive. I knew it immediately and knew it was going to be dangerous even getting to an exit and finding a layby. The hard shoulder was very big with a storm runoff extending it. I took a hard call that I had to use it, and pulled in.
With my passenger wheels in the storm drain, I put down the passenger window, rolled back my seat, put the hazards and the handbrake on and vanished instantly into dream.
The traffic police are pretty quick it seems. I reckon I got half an hour, forty five minutes tops. I was deep in dream when “Alright mate” came loud and clear and I woke from a cricket dream with an audible scream. A little ginger guy was leaning his head through my window and for a moment my head put Ben Stokes’ face on the neck. “You’d better be broken down and not just sleeping,” he said. I was still half asleep and in no mood to be anything but honest. “I had to stop, I was too tired to be safe.” “There’s an exit just ahead and another one behind,” he informs me. He’s reasonably cheerful and I get the feeling he’s not gonna issue some sort of fine. “If you sleep here and there’s a crash you’ll wake up dead.”
However long I got it was enough to get me to London. Then I repacked my bag for another week in Brighton, slept for maybe another hour and got back on the roads for the last push.
I’m here now safely with the little pussycat in the soft and peaceful flat of Lou. With the heatwave I’m pretty glad to be in Brighton, and with the – currently – empty diary, I’m happy to be looking at a bit of stop time. We will see how that pans out though… But I already turned down a short job tomorrow in Leeds so I can hang with the pussycat. My intention now is peace.
AlBarclay 