Some of you many not class this as "Dark Literature" but when I wrote it, it was dark!
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The clock reads 0400. I groan "not again." Toss and turn beds now a mess. Tried counting sheep, including the one that keeps hiding in the corner of the field. Tried to name the bones in the body. Neither worked.

Drastic measures are called for. Switch on the light. Reach for a book. Too soon for a fag. MUG OF TEA! Sounds good.

Down to the kitchen I stumble, passing the dog with all four paws twitching (probably dreaming of catching rabbits). "Wish that was me dreaming" I sigh. "Is Boot in or out?" I try to recall. "No there he is attempting to perfect his tripping me up on the stairs technique". "OK I'll feed you just let me put the kettle on first."

The kettles boiled. Tea bag in mug. Milk from the fridge. Let Boot out. Teas brewed. Back up the stairs both hands clutching the mug. Jump into bed as the clock flicks to 0500.

Time drags. 0600 arrives. "Might as well get up now." Glance in the mirror. Big mistake. Bags under the eyes, feel and look like s***e. Down the stairs again, dogs awake and wants a fuss. "Not now. I need a ..... (well you know!)

Face at the window. Boots in, Shands out. Feed the cat again. Feed the dog, water the dog. Feed the fish. Feed me. More tea made. Fully awake now but all I can think about is sleep oops sorry lack of sleep because for the next six months I'm being forced to celebrate a British Tradition - so fine you know. Its called The End of British Summertime - so quaint. But between you and me IT AIN'T.