13:29hrs, and counting

He’s been asleep for 8 minutes, and he’s been awake since 3am, and so have I; so by my calculations the meter reader, the postman or some feckin religious nutbar should come pounding on the door in about 15 minutes or so and wreck his slumber. Like Coleridge when writing Xanadu, I shall watch the serenity and peace of the carefully planned afternoon receding down the unlit tunnel of a baby who hasn’t had enough sleep, disappearing into the distance like the remainder of Coleridge’s poem, never to be seen again. I shall, however, do otherwise than Coleridge, who simply asked the Person from Porlock in for tea; I shall rip off the unfortunate callers’ head and go bowling with their skull.