The usual crippling awakening didn't happen this morning because I was up several times in the night disposing of the water I unwisely drank so copiously yesterday evening. Must adjust the timing of intake since I can't adjust the volume: it's now summer with swollen ankles and feet and a kilo weight gain overnight. Thus: drink more water. Well, and so night movement keeps one limber, but at the expense of sleep, and that's why I was awake for good at 5:30. Finished the Henning Mankell mystery I started in yesterday's loose end, probably not the best choice because the police detective hero regularly stays up to the wee hours on the case and gets maybe two hours of sleep a night. This did not help my heavy-eyed trudging self at all.

I won't call these physical symptoms nostalgic, but back in the mid-70s when I went to Stratford and stayed in the youth hostel there, the 'five hours of sleep *maybe*' syndrome was a commonplace, as was the unreal cast of the light and slightly nightmare feel that followed it. Haven't missed it at all.

What I really want these days is someone to tuck me into bed. In summer I sleep with a cotton sheet over the lower body and a terrycloth sheet over the top, with the occasional blanket for my cold feet, and have beanbags around both aching elbows and another on the chest to stop the allergy cough, and I sleep on my side with a pillow between my knees, and it's really difficult to get everything arranged properly when you have all that clobber to manage. A nice nurse to arrange the sheeting for me would be lovely.

Shall note that cherries are reddening and cherry pits falling where the birds have been at them, and that the indoor fan dance has begun. Lows are still in the teens, which is defined as cool in summer, but the sunny days make for stuffiness on the second floor.