I was so dog-tired after our Bath trip and the no-sleep-because-of-snoring-problem that I had an hour’s sleep on his bed a few days ago. I woke from a nightmare where I was being chased by a crocodile and my only weapon was a Dyson hoover (with no nozzle on it). He was making his way around a square cement pool and I was trying to get up some steps to run from him but my legs wouldn’t work (you know that feeling in dreams, like having limbs of clay). I kept aiming the hoover towards him and blasting him with it before I woke up.
So I’m sixty now. Where did the time go? Do I recognise myself? Not always but she is in there, that little one that I do know.
The last one to do today and then its draw, draw, draw and draw…..
