Monday 9th January - Insomnia

I have not slept a wink since Friday night. Saturday I got in really very late after the walking home/punch in the balls incident, and just pretty much didn't bother to go to sleep. Last night, I was entirely knackered. Entirely. I could barely keep my eyes open most of the evening, which is why I was shocked that as soon as I decided to go to bed I suddenly couldn't sleep. So I just lay there and waited for sleep to envelope it's inevitable clutches around me. 

Two hour's later and it still hadn't. I couldn't understand it. So I decided to try and read for a bit, and then attempted to sleep again. By attempted, I mean I lay down in my bed with the lights off and my eyes shut. That is surely the only thing you really can do to go to sleep. It's a tried and tested formula that has been used by people for ages - I mean like years and years. It really should have worked. For another couple of hours I lay there wondering exactly why I wasn't asleep yet, since I was using the right technique and all. Still nothing. 

I must have been tired - I didn't bother to do any sleeping the previous night - so I was entirely due a good night's kip. I decided to go downstairs and drink some ovaltine, and then some whiskey too - that always knocks me out. Still no sleep. Much tiredness, but no sleep. It was the most frustrating thing to happen. As soon as you realise you aren't sleeping you get so frustrated that you aren't that it makes it even worse.

Eventually, my alarm went off a half 7 and I had to get ready for a day's work - something I wasn't really that up for, having not slept in two days. 

Today at work was a real hard slog. My attention span wasn't registering, I was pumping myself with Lucozade and caffeine - by 'pumping', I would like to point out, I mean I was administering it orally, via the usual method of, erm, drinking it. My sense of humour had gone, as well as which my memory was suffering. And my sense of humour had gone.

Having survived 8 and a bit hours at work, I had to get straight home and get ready for a rehearsal with the band, which I felt as much like doing as I do having to write this blog right now - but I guess you have to do these things if you're me. And I am me. At least I think I am, it's actually getting quite hard to tell to be honest.

At the latest count - which is now - I have now been awake for over 63 hours. 63 entire hours since I last graced 'The Land Of Nod' with my Godly presence. I miss it a lot. It is homely and cool things can happen to you while you're there, and it makes you feel a lot better in the daytime if you've had a nice amount of it. 

But now I am worried it will happen again. I don't know if I can survive another day without sleep. There must be a cut off point when a body just shuts down if you go without sleep for too long and you just, well, go to sleep I suppose. But I don't really want to do that at work to be honest. To suddenly just slump forward over my desk, pension claims forms scattering over the floor. Everyone thinking I've just died. And equally, I just can't drink any more fucking Lucozade. I suppose I could try different flavours, but at the end of the day its still Lucozade. The drink that fat people seem to always sit drinking on the trains between Brighton and Littlehampton. 

I also really need a shower right now, because I smell quite badly, but am worried that having one will make me wide awake. 

Just how long will Tom Sadler stay awake, dear readers?