So I was convinced that when I did not drink, I could not sleep. Awake all night, watching the clock. Then I bought a new Apple watch. Was going to trade the old one in, but decided to keep it as the battery was good enough to last over night and measure my sleep patterns.

A couple of weeks have passed, so I have quite a bit of nightly data. I was expecting to see on the nights I hadn’t drank anything quite a lot of ‘awake’ time, very little ‘deep’ sleep and not much of anything else either. Now here is the strange thing, there is virtually no difference. Takes about the same time to fall asleep (20-25 minutes), same number of deep sleep periods and awake times. So there we have it, it’s all in my head. I think the only difference is I’m conscious of the awake time when I’m coherent and not when I’ve been drinking.

Now I know this knowledge, I have no real issues getting to sleep. As long as I’m relaxed and have a clear head, all is good. I found reading for an hour before lights out is a good way to unwind. I did try some of the ‘sounds’ and meditation stuff, but that just kept me awake.

So at the moment I’m trying to be ‘good’ and not drink on ‘school’ nights. Lets see how long it lasts.

So no new posts for over a year? Okay, lazy shit, or maybe just busy on other things. So here we go on a new iPad (well refurbished). Keyboard hasn’t arrived yet so using the touchscreen for now. A lot has happened over recent years and no doubt I’ll waffle. But good to be back.

So now I’m sat listening to Scott Mills and Chris Stark’s last show. Scott has been on Radio One for the past twenty-four years and with Chris for the at least the last ten. I must admit I haven’t listened for the past few years, nothing to do with the show, more to do with the playlist, it’s certainly not me.

Scott is moving to Radio Two (God’s waiting room for presenters), Chris is off to some commercial station. Never again will we have ‘innuendo bingo’, with talk of thick beef curtains. Never again will we have ‘Scott Mills the musical’.

Scott is one year younger than me, I’ve basically spent the best part of my working life listening to him, we’ve kind of grown up together weirdly. I will listen in on Radio Two when he moves there (Replacing Steve Wright), but the chemistry will be different.

It’s been a few years of familiar shows moving on. First it was ‘The organist entertains’ and ‘Listen to the band’. The former is now available as a sort of podcast, the latter is as well if you want to pay for it. Then just last week it was Paul O’Grady after fourteen years.

I’ve enjoyed listening to the last few shows this week, there have been a lot of ‘lol’s’. Especially when I was just out walking the dog, I was peeing myself through the commercial estate. It’s brought back a lot of fun memories of times past.

But times move on, we all age, our tastes change, we can’t stay young forever, no matter how much we try, or want to. You can’t stay a Radio One deejay forever, it is after all a station for fifteen to twenty-four year old’s, being forty-nine, it’s time to go.

And one other thing about Scott, he’s gay, but not once has ever flaunted it, not once. He is a fantastic role model and went on to prove an important thing, you can be a gay man and have great relationships with straight men.

It’s now coming into the last half hour of the show, there is a bit of a tear in my eye (I don’t think it’s a hundredth of what’s in theirs.) And he’s just played Mariah Carey’s ‘All I want for Christmas is you’, after all, it’s only four months to go.

And Chris Stark’s song choice, perfect, ‘The Streets’, ‘Dry your eyes’.

Scott’s choice, ‘Christina Aguilera’, ‘Beautiful’.

The final song? Something came to me this morning, I’m not a gambling man, but if I was going to put fifty quid on a track it would be, ‘Green Day’, ‘Time of your life’.

Would I have won the money?

No.

It was ‘One direction’, ‘Night changes’.

Love you, bye.

So Sunday I went out drank five pints then got home and downed a bottle of wine and watched Britain’s got talent. Next morning I couldn’t remember almost any of it. On Monday I decided enough was enough so didn’t drink anything. But then I had to solve the sleeping issue. I came up with a system, based on ‘hours awake’ and involved a combination of Zopiclone and L-Theanine. Thankfully this actually worked, but Zopiclone is known to block out the important R.E.M. sleep, so knew payback was in order.

Wednesday I was in two minds, but ended up doing gates at the track, going to to the pub to do the first part of quiz and downing a pint of coke. I then drove back home, got changed out of my racing kit and then walked back to the pub. I then consumed four pints over the next three hours and boy did I struggle with the last one, I think I spent an hour just on that.

When I got home I had one of those mini pizza things, I’d already had a cheese burger at the track. I then went to bed. Really I should have had a shower as I probably stank. And then it started, the tossing and turning, went on for about five hours. I then popped a L-Theanine tablet and R.E.M. finally popped in. Now strange things started to happen. You are afraid to close your eyes as you know your brain will play tricks on you, you can’t distinguish between whats fake and whats reality. It’s a very strange state to be in. You do have to stop yourself and go ‘It’s not real’, then you suddenly wake up, or do you? You may go through multiple levels of waking up. Who knows I may even not actually be writing this, I may wake up again. After an hour or so the strangeness stops and you can actually close your eyes in confidence.

I’ve got no plans to drink this evening (I have made a little promise to myself if I keep everything under control), roll on reality, or lack of….

Always enjoyed Derren Brown, seen many of his shows live over the years. This one though was a bit special and more personal. It was dedicated to his dad who passed during covid. Being from Bristol this was the show he was supposed to come and see. I won’t reveal anything about the show other than during the second half there was something that just completely amazed me, I can work out how most of the stuff is done, but that was just mind blowing.

The one thing that struck with me is there was a number of ‘end of life’ statements given by people. ‘I wish I lived the life I wanted’ and ‘I wish I took more risks’, quite poignant.

So on a (probably) cold January day in 1997 I moved into my first house and paid my first mortgage payment. Twenty-five years later I’ve just paid my last. It was an interest only mortgage that has been offset for years so has never cost me anything. The capitol has slowly been cut down as they still take the interest amount, so been acting like a small repayment mortgage. But today is the so called ‘Redemption day’, they give you a figure and you pay it and bye bye mortgage. That payment has now been made. Where did that twenty-five years go? The endowment came out last December. That’s it now, apart from the final balance (I think they owe me some), it’s over, the house is mine. Aged fifty. I supposed I should be happy, but one form of anxiety soon replaces the last one. I’ll now just be obsessed with pension pots and fund portfolios.

Phone pinged at 22:40 on the 6th. It was a message from the ex. it was an ‘opener’, or throw away comment if you like. But we then proceeded to have the longest conversation (albeit by text) that we’d had in about four years.

I even asked the question……and got the reply ‘I changed faith not positions’, which made me crack up. I said I’d take them both out to dinner when they get back from honeymoon, it will be nice to catch up, banter. The only things I can recall these days are all the great places we visited around the world and adventures we had. I’m sure there are arguments and bad times, but they’ve all but faded from memory.

Then I began to realise something. You can’t erase someone from your timeline. Trying to cover up twelve years of your life is like having those ‘missing six months’ in a CV. Whoever is looking at it will not worry about the other thirty years but will be digging to find out what happened then. He wouldn’t be where he is now if it wasn’t for me, if it wasn’t for those twelve years. The stars would not have aligned, I was part of that journey, and he will always be a part of mine.

I look forward to that dinner.

Yesterday my Ex. husband got married. They did look fantastic in their traditional Scottish kilts and tartan. Looks like they had a fantastic day, and I’m really pleased for them (no, I actually am!). I did send him a message the day before and said to ‘try not to repeat this every ten years’. As indeed we had a civil partnership is 2012, things started going to shit in 2017 and I think our civil partnership was dissolved in 2019. One thing that always kind of irritated me though…..he kept my name, surname that is. I know it’s a pain in the ass to change banks, passports etc. But I would have thought he would have changed it back to his ‘maiden’ name. But then of course there was the Sonic pun in there so I guess not. Well until today. His name has changed to that of his new husband. That’s kind of given me an odd bit of closure. It’s strange how something like that can hang over you.

I guess last night they would have found out they are both bottoms, after being good Christians of course they would have never slept with each other. I know the Ex. is technically versatile (I even put out a few times, I had less hemorrhoids then), but I think he’s certainly more of a bottom. If his new hubby is versatile then they are both in for a bloody good time. As I said, I wish them well. I’ll always remember the good times we had and maybe one day we’ll all have a beer together and do some reminiscing.

So he’s managed to form a new (and very successful) relationship over the past four years. Me? Well I had a couple of dates with a ‘lovey’ and was dumped on WhatsApp (not too fussed he had a very small dick). Had a date with another guy who had too many issues and dumped me on WhatsApp. Had a sixteen month relationship with a guy who I actually only met three times (thanks Covid). When he visited to stay for a night he brought five pairs of shoes and set up camp in the spare room. I decided that tectonic plates moved faster than this relationship, and sixteen months was a hell of a drought, so buggered off to Gran Canaria and ended that. Had probably close to a hundred random hookups in various countries. And now out of the blue, what was supposed to be a Grindr hookup ended up getting a bit pissed in the pub, followed by a nice evening in the hot tub (he didn’t like hot tubs, but does now) and movies with a Chinese. This weekend we’re having a BBQ. Is he a keeper? No idea yet. May just be a friend, he’s very local. So someone a similar age? Ah no, he’s actually a year younger than the Ex. Will I ever learn? Doubt it, plus I’m too bloody old to care now.

I often wonder if I met the Ex. now would it be different? Yes, there is no way we would have ever got together, nothing really in common other than a love of roller coasters. We did have some good times, but I think it was always a bit doomed to failure. I’m not really the ‘loving’ type, I show very little affection, I have virtually no empathy for people and I don’t have the wardrobe space to accommodate anyone else. So what am I looking for? Not sure, really don’t know, maybe just a friend to hang out with, maybe a bit more.

One things for certain, I won’t be measuring up for a kilt anytime soon and I look forward to that WhatsApp message.

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.