So drank less than a bottle of wine last night as I was tired and just couldn’t be arsed. This of course meant that I didn’t sleep until about 4AM. But boy was I in for a wild ride after that. Started off squeezing the puss out of three boils, they were big ones and managed to get the sack out of two (too much Dr. Pimple Popper). Then I was on a coach, with a dog called Sam (I don’t have a dog called Sam, although my mother had one years ago). I got off the coach and the dog ran away, I tried chasing the dog, but to no avail. I then went back to where everyone else was gathered and couldn’t find the bag I’d left when I started chasing the dog. It was a white bag, not relevant at all, but it does pad out the post.

I then ended up at a roundabout and found a key to a caravan. Managed to find said caravan and no one was in. So promptly took a shower, had a shit and went to bed. Only then in the morning the girl owner of the caravan returned. She was not even the slightest annoyed that I stayed there because all I said I wanted was a shower and a shit. I said I hadn’t taken anything and even brought my own eggs (one of which I’d boiled). I tidied everything up and left. It was only then when I got back to the coach I realised that I had my glasses case but my glasses were missing.

I never did find the dog.

This morning was interesting. Had mad serotonin rush, beautiful chemical imbalance in the brain. Imagine going up the launch hill of ‘Oblivion’ and that feeling you get when it’s just holding at the drop point. Now imagine that feeling lasting the best part of the day. Today is actually a bank holiday, but the weather is pants, so did some Unreal work instead, as I can quite easily do that in a heightened state of euphoria. Not sure what’s setting the brain off at the moment. Maybe past comes to light, my ex. is getting married (yes not a civil partnership) on Thursday. I know it’s been a long time, five years almost now, since we split, but still somehow feels strange. I’d just like to be a fly on the wall and see who walks down the aisle, if the dog is carrying the rings and does everyone have to come dressed as their favorite Disney character? I wish them well.

Me on the other hand, who knows? My ex. (lots of ex.’s today) girlfriend said to me once that I should have ‘My way’ played at my funeral, as you’ve done everything ‘your way’. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but maybe now and then ‘My way’ wasn’t necessarily the correct way.

You know when you’re getting old when just after your birthday those lovely little pension envelopes appear and they contain an extra booklet. I can now apply for free advice… I’ve just put all my pensions into a calculator. Sadly it says I can’t retire immediately. What’s worse is I currently can’t retire when I actually want to. They may not be true, but with my current ‘burn rate’ it’s certainly not sustainable. But alas, I’ll reevaluate it for the next five years. It will become a regular feature like filling out my tax return on New Years Day.

Don’t think I’d want to retire at the moment anyway, or even in five years for that matter, I think I’d just become a bit bored. But the day will come when I get up and think I can no longer walk forty odd miles just powered off a chicken sandwich and a bottle of coke.

You build an audience. That audience has expectations. Sometimes it’s fun to be a Kardashian in the world of ‘The only way is Essex’. Just saying.

So the time came where I actually reached fifty. I’m as surprised as you are. I can officially no longer leave a good looking corpse, although I somehow seemed determined to leave one sooner rather than later.

So what now?

Some things are coming to an end, mortgage payments, life insurance, sanity. Stability is almost all but certain, I’m not planning on being a miserable ninety year old, where the only thing I have to look forward to is getting through the night without pissing myself. Do I want another relationship? No, I really don’t think so. Been there, done that, have the paperwork. I no longer have the spare wardrobe space to support it. I’m quite happy vanishing a couple of times a year to service various needs. You get to meet lots of new people and indeed some of them turn into friends. I do get the feeling though that I’ve hit some kind of rut that I need to break out of a bit. I’ve always had the gym and that gives me continuity, but there are other things that I feel I should change.

For the first time in a long time (probably twenty-five years), I went flat out at the local BMX track yesterday. I’ve been there for the last few months and during lock-down, but not really in anger as I didn’t have the safety equipment. Although I did manage to dislocate my shoulder a few weeks ago, one quick tug and all was back in order. I had a feeling at the top of that start hill, well even before then I was seriously apprehensive before I even set out. Can I still do this? Do I have the balls to jump from the start gate and pedal flat out to the first jump? There was only one way to find out. I soared through the air like an eagle wearing more padding than Elton John’s grand piano in the back of a Pickford’s lorry. I was free again, the fear was gone. I was there for a couple of hours and probably did about fifteen laps or so. Your heart rate rockets, it’s very tiring.

There’s some other things I need to get a handle on, but I think this could be part of the solution.

Here’s to the next thirty years, at least.

So all was fine Monday, downed a bottle of wine during the evening, watched TV, nothing unusual. Went to bed….and then nothing happened. Just lied there. Tossing and turning, went for a pee a few times, still nothing. Then it started to happen. Things no longer appeared as they should, there was stuff in the room that shouldn’t have been there and also things were missing. Then I couldn’t move. Completely trapped by my own duvet. I was the being attacked by my own mind. I started screaming. If I kept my eyes open was I witnessing reality? If I closed them was I then entering a world that wasn’t real. What was the distinction. I relied on the fact that reality was probably when the dogs were pacing around the bed wondering what the fuck was going on and fantasy was when all was quiet. I watched the clock as two hours passed afraid to move, afraid to open my eyes, afraid to close them. It was a very scary experience, but sadly not the first one and certainly not the last. Caused by a serotonin imbalance. They do say that you are you own worst enemy.

Last night I popped 2mg of Zopiclone after that didn’t do much I had another 3mg. I don’t remember anything after that apart from waking up, so will chalk that up to a success.

Ordered more 5-HTP. That should put everything back in balance. I’m quite happy to be killed by most things, but currently my own mind isn’t one of them.

So now been off the wine since Saturday, which is the longest I’ve been for years (except when I was on holiday I drank more vodka than anything else). It’s a bit of an experiment really, to see how it effects my sleep. Can drink as much beer as I want, but no wine. It’s been interesting so far. First night didn’t sleep much, but as time goes on I’ve been sleeping more, or in my case, remember being awake less. Remembering is quite nice also. Tried taking ‘NAC’ again. The first time I took it I found it gave me nightmares, and sure enough this time I woke up (but didn’t), to see a giant rat running down the curtains. What put it into the correct perspective is I thought I don’t actually have curtains in this room. Yesterday drank a lot at quiz and slept fine. Will be out again this evening. Will continue into the weekend. Is this the end of wine? We shall see….

So last night I didn’t sleep again. I have a theory, it’s something to do with wine. Now stick with me. If I drink ‘a lot’ of wine, seem to sleep fine. But then if I just drink beer the next day I can’t sleep. Working on this theory I will stay off the wine for a little while and see how it effects my sleep.

Today was another first….I went back to the gym and did combat. I almost broke into a sweat, it was good to be back, and planning on going back to pump on Friday. Hopefully start of a good new routine.

So heard the news the other day that ‘Clive’ had passed away. Haven’t seen him since my dad’s funeral, where he recounted the story of the exploding tomatoes in the greenhouse. Apparently they built this greenhouse using double glazing and filled it with tomato plants. It was one of the very hot summers during the 1970’s. They went to work, came back and saw everyone of the tomatoes had exploded in the heat, making it look like some kind of massacre had occurred.

He was a neighbour back when I was probably about five or six. He had two kids which were a similar age (maybe a bit older) to my sister and I. He worked with dad for a number of years, fitting windows. They got an old ladder and put half each side of the garden wall so they could get over in the morning to whoever kept the van that night. He had a fish pond and a dog called ‘Jane’. Quite a few memories of Clive, he was a bit of a chirpy chap, and always brought out the best in Dad. I don’t have that many fond memories of my Dad to be honest.

So that’s another one of that generation shuffling off. My old school friend announced recently that his dad had also passed at the age of ninety odd, from dementia and old age. If we have a cold winter then I can see a few more popping off this year.

My sister will never be an ‘aunty’, but at some point she will certainly be a ‘granny’. She will hate that. But it does mean we then ‘all move up a level’, then it will be our turn next.