My sleep patterns have been disturbed quite badly recently. I was awake this morning at 5.15, and despite desperately trying to drop off again, my mind was awash with all sorts of thoughts. Like whether or not all of the radioactive material from the former Soviet Union has been accounted for, what would happen if one looked at an ultra-violet light through infra-red goggles, and how an earth I might find contact details for Rachel Weisz.
Anyway, needless to say I'm rather tired now, but I still feel obliged to do some typing, as I received a most lovely letter from a lady called Gill, who is an assisstant to Sir Cliff Richard. She seemed desparately upset that she and Sir Cliff would be unable to help me, for alas "...he is overseas for much of the next two months."
However, she did state that "I will keep your letter by me and if some unexpected gap appears in Sir Cliff's schedule between now and Christmas, I'll let you know." I shall thus put him in the 'maybe' pile.
I'm off for a lie down now. Until Monday. Actually, My fatigued state reminds me off some grafitti I once saw on the toilet wall of a Happy Eater on the M6. I think it said somethign like: "I used to suffer from narcolepsy but I'm alright n ".