In another universe, I'm not even up yet. Or I am, but I'm bungling around in a dressing gown, clasping a mug of coffee and my head and muttering about it being the middle of the night. You can tell this is another universe, because I don't have a dressing gown in this one and I don't drink coffee in the mornings. I do, however, have a head, so, you know, point of contact and all that.
Anyway. Last night the clocks went forward and somebody stole an hour of my life. I know I get it back again in October, but that's like the time my electricity company decided to charge me £160 a month when I was only using £63 a month - I know I get the money back eventually, but that's no good when I need it NOW, is it? And I don't know what I might be doing in October, I might have some particularly enthralling hobby that gets me out of bed at four a m (no, I have no idea what it could be either, but something that can get me out of bed at four in the morning must be particularly exciting. Maybe I'm dating Aiden Turner or something...
Yes, yes I would, and yes, I would have to get out of bed at four a m in order to be ready for a date at seven p m) and that extra hour is completely wasted...Hang on. If I'm dating Aiden Turner, and I get an extra hour in bed...
Sorry. Disregard what I just said, would you?
Point I am making is... hold on, I had a point just a minute ago... too tired to remember. I am sleep deprived and..oh yes, that was it. An hour of my life has been snatched away, and nobody bothered to ask if I was using it or anything, they just snuck in in the middle of the night and took it away. I might have been doing anything with that hour (see above, re Aiden Turner...) and now I have to wait until October for repayment, by which time inflation will mean that I'll only get forty-five minutes and a few seconds back, and if that happens to everyone in the country then somewhere someone is sitting on about 86 thousand years, which is going to get uncomfortable unless they have a very special cushion.
I'm deranged and rambling now. It's lack of sleep, that's the only explanation...
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Blog Tour: Merde at the Paris Olympics by Stephen Clarke
#MerdeAtTheParisOlympics
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I’m the closing ceremony, if you will, on the blog tour for Stephen
Clarke’s Merde at the Paris Olympics. This seventh book in Clarke’s
bestselling series ...
1 year ago
3 comments:
Ha lucky you, we decided to travel East for a few days in our wisdom and have lost not one measly hour but two.
One hour was bad enough. DD2 just came back from Australia, where she'd been living 11 hours ahead of us, and that confused the hell out of me!
Think yourself lucky, Jane, I get to lose six tomorrow when I fly to London. Not even Aidan could make up for that I'm afraid!
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