Wednesday, February 18, 2009

"...that I was on fire for you"

We're both awake at 3:00am, but this is not about apportioning blame. He tells me he's been dreaming about Jeff Stelling Twittering about Chewits which, and I think it's to my credit, I'm able to find funny.

At 4:00am the cough mixture appears to be working and, were it not for the frustrating fragment of a song rattling around my head, there's no reason why I shouldn't be asleep again soon. I chase it round and round, tantalisingly close to grabbing the tail of the line. I'm almost there - no - it vanishes. I repeat the seven words I've got and then 'something something something' as the chorus disappears round the bend.

I overtake a couple more words "something 'Poet's Rest'" and am suddenly confident that it won't get away now. One final circuit and I've caught up:

"...well, if you must, you must, I suppose that...."

As I begin to relax on the home straight, a gentle snoring begins.

"you need the sleep of the just..."

Sleep Of The Just - Elvis Costello


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