Perchance To Dream

Some couples bicker about big stuff. "Honey, what do you think of the new pick-up truck!" "Let's just put it on the credit card!" "It's only leaking a bit..." "I think I'll shave my head" "It's only sex - I don't love her the way I love you"

But me and my gal have this fundamental disagreement about sleep. You know, the big ZZZ.

You see I'm the kind of bloke who's asleep before the head touches the pillow. Out like a general anesthetic. Dreamland in seconds. My gal? A 24 hour party person to whom sleep is a serious inconvenience.

This big conflab was all built around the apparently weird concept of the "early night". My idea. Just fancied one.

She hit's back "Why? Are you bored?". No I'm not bored. Boredom has nowt to do with it. Just fancy an early kip that's all. "You must be bored!" Naw! "Yes" Naww.."

To me sleep is like a good heated swimming pool on a cold day. It's pleasurable experience, a genuine refresher - if snozzing off in a nano-sec isn't a total contradiction. I love kip. It's one of life's true pleasures!

I can catch a nap anywhere - back of a bus, middle of a Rage In The Machine gig - and wake up fresh as a daisy, with a girl in my face going "What do you think you're up to, buster..."

Our lass, by contrast, is a fully qualified graduate of the Margaret Thatcher school of rest and relaxation. Sleeps about four hours and then up like Tigger, bouncing off the walls, singing a song.

I got woke up the other morning by a bright eyed, bushy tailed, fully clothed lass with the words "Summat's up with the day..." I open one eye and suss it straight away. It's still dark. "Not got going yet, that's what's up wi' it" "That's just it, " she says, prodding my shoulder. "It's late!" "Naw - you're just early!"

Couldn't convince her. So there she was, 5.30am giving the dawn a hard time.

Me, Gone again. ZZZ.

I couldn't convince her of the early night thing. I was reading a copy of Men's Health down the barbers and it was saying how the average bloke needs 7-8 hours of quality REM to keep his brain in gear. For me six and a half's more than fine. But every so often a bit of extra does the trick.

It doesn't make any difference what I'm up to. Steve McQueen can be screaming around San Francisco in a hotrod, or Jamie Lee doing her True Lies dance, if I'm ready I'm ready. Boredom doesn't enter into it.

Our lass meanwhile needs a few glasses of Vino Tinto to calm her brain down enough to sneak a few zeds. And even then you can tell the braincells are still in full flow. Mind you - I probably dreamed the whole thing...

Blogga.