Nine Hours Nicky...

I've had a revelation that has blown my mind.

Just over a week ago, it was the England v Mexico match. Do you remember? It was supposed to kick off at 1am on Monday morning but that got pushed to 2am because of thunder. The match lasted the full ninety minutes, plus half time, hydration breaks, injury and stoppage time, so what with the studio analysis afterwards, I crawled into bed at 5am.

Rock and roll, baby! I powered through a twenty-two hour day before falling asleep when it was light. Now, where's that revelation I promised? Well, hear me out, it's coming. When I got into bed, I decided not to set my alarm. Sensible, right? I'd already written off Monday morning and had nothing immediate to get up for. As I closed my eyes and sank into the pillow, I felt safe in the knowledge that I had a few hours of uninterrupted rest coming my way. Even so, it was quite the surprise when I finally woke up. It was 1pm! Nine hours later! 

Illness aside, I've never knowingly slept for nine hours in my life. Most nights I usually sleep between 1am and 7am. If I have a flexible day, I may lie in bed, scrolling for an extra hour or so, but my sleep is still the same. Six hours, night in, night out, standard. Nine hours blew my mind. Who knew that it was even possible? I was properly gobsmacked.

I know, I know, you're waiting for the revelation. Having a long kip doesn't merit such big talk. So stand by and brace yourselves, here's what blew my mind. After nine hours of sleep, when I'd had no interruptions, no alarm snoozes, and no worries about waking up for something important, I got out of bed with a SPRING in my step. It was the binary opposite of my usual waking self. I didn't yawn, I didn't ache, I didn't wish I could have ten more minutes... I felt AMAZING.

That feeling didn't stop once I got up. The whole day I was energised. I felt invincible. Nothing was an effort, nothing was too hard to think about, I was ready to tackle the world. I've always known on an intellectual level that getting enough sleep is important, I just thought my nightly six hours was enough. Readers, it wasn't.

Of course I've done my best to replicate that nine hours in the days since. It's harder than it sounds. I take ages to drop off. 1am is the time I sleep, whether I go to bed earlier or not. That means I need to lie in more. But that's a problem. I can't write off whole mornings like I did last Monday. I can be flexible now and then, but most days I have to get up for something. It's going to be a problem. Still, even if this revelation changes nothing, I've learnt something new about myself. Nine Hours Nicky, that's me. That's what I've learnt, even if it can only ever be a beautiful one-off.

Writing News

Oh boy. I've started rereading the first Leeza McAuliffe book. It's... hmmm... what is it, exactly? Cringe, for sure. Funny too. I've laughed at a bunch of lines I forgot were there. It's humbling - I think I'd do it better now. Or maybe just differently? It's not an unpleasant experience (aside from the cringe of reading my own stuff) but it's making me think about where my writing was seven years ago. Regardless of all these feelings, however, it is a necessity. I've written three books in the Leeza McAuliffe Stories series. That's too many facts to hold in my head. I need to reread the series, make copious notes about the facts of each character's life, and start thinking about Book Four. I'm enjoying it, but with healthy reservations.

Matthew Rhys in Widow's Bay.
Fun is the word.

Culture

Football, football, football. That's what's on my TV on a nightly basis and sometimes I'm even watching. Aside from that, I've started rewatching Rivals from the beginning. I think it's become my happy place. I've also started Widow's Bay on Apple. I'd never have tuned in without a specific recommendation from my friend. Eerie towns and creepy goings on aren't my thing. But my friend's tastes are impeccable and she described it simply as fun. And fun it is! I'm all in and laughing just as much as I'm weirded out. Book wise, I spent a very happy half-hour in my local indie bookshop. I bought two paperbacks that I'm planning to take on a Welsh mini break that's coming up, and I'm currently immersed in the George Michael biopic/social commentary of the eighties by Sathnam Sanghera - Tonight the Music Seems So Loud. It's wonderful.

Food and Drink

With the return of the heat, comes the return of giving the oven a swerve. All my recent meals have consisted of picking at cold bits. Of course, it's important to make things nice. Making things nice, elevates everything. The odds and ends at the bottom of pickle jars with added cheese and crisps on a plate, does not an evening meal make. But if you arrange them on a board, add a glass of wine, and opt for napkins over kitchen towel, you've got yourself a feast.

Out and About

Talking of feasts, my mate had a garden party on Friday, with excellent food, drink, and company. We all know I hate the summer but if I must endure it year after year, events like that make it SO much nicer. 

So on we go. I'll continue to chase the elusive nine hours of sleep I truly need, whilst zhuzhing up bits of food to my heart's content. One last thing... if you're in need of more sleep yourself, I should recommend my podcast Lights, Camera, Aggro? You'll either be bored to tears and drop off immediately, OR completely engaged and care not a jot about being awake. I mention it now, because for the first time in its history, Lights, Camera, Aggro? is available on Apple and Spotify. The most recent series is, at least. Check it out as you attempt to drift off. The latest episode about Dirty Dancing has me oversharing way too much, whilst revelling in the subversive messaging at the heart of its plot. Larks.

Have a lovely week, folks.