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On sleep

Beset with poorly child who cannot sleep and feeling guilty that I told her I needed to sleep, my guilt is now keeping me awake.

Sleep is a funny thing - we love it, especially in the winter, when we can wrap up warm after a hot bath, and snuggle down under the covers; we hate it when we are too busy to stop, when needing to sleep slows us down and makes us slow and jeopardises deadlines; we appreciate it when a noisy, restless child finally closes his eyes and snores softly; we are grateful for it when we can rest our weary limbs; and without it, we would cease to exist - we need it.

Sleep is fragile - it evaporates if we are afraid, anxious or worried. It is sometimes elusive and although we chase through our memories and thoughts it sometimes hides away too well.

We can do it in funny places - at the cinema, in the dentist's chair, in the classroom, in front of the television, on the beach, and in bed. We can do it lying down, sitting up, slumped on a sofa, but not normally standing up. Famously, some people can get by with very little, or they practice power naps, but others need much more.

Some people talk in their sleep; some masticate (yes! read it carefully - m-a-s-t-i-c-a-t-e - which means they chew and grind their teeth); some snore and some even stop breathing momentarily, which is awfully worrying for their partner lying next to them, who can't sleep because of the snoring.

But the best thing about sleep ... well, hopefully I'm about to find out ... is that when off in the land of nod, you can't procrastinate.

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