For me cats on the bed are much like snakes on a plane - best not.
Oh he is a wily one; giving the Roadrunner, Will o' the Wisp and the Candyman a run for their money.
My regular waking hours are 3.00am or 5.00am, though last week there was a hideous 1.00am awakening - I am however nothing but generous and love to share my insomnia with hubs:
"I can't sleep" push, push, I said "I can't sleep."
"Are you listening?"
Eventually I get a begrudged, " No, because I'm sleeping, or at least I was."
I then rise, bang some cymbals, do a little light drumming practice, then boil the kettle whilst shouting "I'm making coffee do you want one, since you're getting up to keep me company?"
(I'm a fast metaboliser of caffeine)
Napoleon may have said that a man needs six hours sleep, a woman seven and a fool eight, clearly I'm half the man Napoleon was as I'm currently surviving on three. In an attempt to assuage myself of the thought that I'm going to age prematurely and slowly go insane with sleep deprivation I've been doing some light research.
It seems that while we are at our best on seven to eight hours sleep a night, we don’t necessarily need them consecutively.
The warm and languid eight-hour trip onboard the Slumberland Express is a relatively new development for mankind, who until the late 18th century enjoyed two bouts of sleep, each of roughly four hours but broken up by a period of an hour or two of wakefulness to be spent smoking, reading, praying or – for the saucy French at least –making love.
French doctors in the 16th century recommended that couples wishing to conceive have sex “after the first sleep” as then they were liable to “do it better”.
The two bouts of sleep was noted by Homer in The Odyssey when he wrote: “In his first sleep, call up your hardiest cheer/ Vigour and violence, and hold him there/ In spite of all his strivings to be gone.”
The two sleeps began to be fused into one in the late 18th and early 19th century when lighting systems improved, allowing people to stay up later as well as diminishing the dangers of the dark. And by 1829, medical journals were advising parents to force children to accept one extended sleep instead of two.
Perhaps those of us who wake in the middle of the night should try to embrace it as a natural time of mystery and wonder, instead of one of anxiety and dread, because you know how we all think our happiest and most optimistic thoughts at 3 a.m! Although that handsome rogue Ted Hughes certainly did. He would actually set an alarm to stir himself in the middle of the night when he would rise to write poetry as he believed at these small hours he was closer to the heart of the natural world.
Me? I believe I am closer to being escorted off the premises by the men in the white coats. Hope they are handsome and have some Mogadon to hand.