Why is it that the night you really want to have good night's sleep, because you have to get up early the next day to go to London, is always the night you toss and turn and wake up too early and can't get back to sleep?
I made the mistake of giving in to chocolate fudge cake last night. I shouldn't have. Now I ache from head to foot, as if whilst I was sleeping someone had given me a good going over with a cricket bat.
And the dreams. Oh god, the dreams. Every single dream was basically the same. All about the same thing. Message to my subconscious: Yes, ok, ok, I get it. Now shut up!
Can I go back to bed now, please? No? Damn.
Anyway, off to London today, back on Saturday probably. Lots of meetings. Wish me luck.
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