Christmas Wishes (V2)

I can't sleep.  

As best as I try, tiredness will not envelop me this morning (Christmas day) and take me back to a restful place before the busy day ahead.

I have been awake for the last 2 hours - since 03.30 - spending the time sat at the dining table with my thoughts this Christmas morning.  I also check my blood sugar.  I know I was a bad bad, boy yesterday.  It says 11.blob or summat like that.  I just remember the 11.  A number I've not seen since May when I then put myself on a low carbohydrate diet.  Damn.  Too much WOOF'ing!  Bad dog! Bad dog!  I finish what I needed to do and I'm again in bed staring at the ceiling after trying, for a short while wrapped in the warm duvet, to get a bit more shut eye as today is going to be a busy day.  

Right.  Get up.  If you can't sleep at least do something about that bad blood sugar level and go for a walk.  So I do.  It's not quite 6am.  

I am struck as I leave the house by the sound of a distant Nightingale beckoning me into the darkness.  I'm drawn towards it.  Its chorus gets louder.  Proper punchy warbles in the mix hitting me like a gatling gun.  I stop walking at the base of an ancient sleeping tree which to all intents is singing its little wooden heart out.  

It's the first bird song that I've heard since September or so; other than the racket made by them thar land lubbing waste dump squatting Gulls cos whilst they weren't looking someone put rather tight elastic bands around their Klootzaks [*1] and the lack of thumbs and fingers mean they canna take them off.  Gaahh!  Gaahh!  

There's Nightingales everywhere!  Territorial warfare without FPV drones has broken out in the Dnipro cul-de-sac in Woodthorpe.  Nevertheless, I feel blessed to be walking the streets all alone this morning, surrounded by angels proclaiming to the World the importance of this day today.  

I walk on.  A few homes have bedroom lights on.  That'll be the houses with kids then.  An occasional home has the hall and kitchen lights on.  I glimpse someone passing their kitchen window but refrain from looking in to avoid the risk of getting an eyeful of an early morning faux-pas.  

Am I the only one who might wander the house in my ahems?  My neighbours mum - Joy - in her excitement the other month, and her attempt to get me outside of my house to see the Northern Lights, almost got an eyeful but without the associated awe and wonder that was happening on the other side of the glass as she raced up to my living room window with a clatter.  Come on out Wayne, come come she shouts to get me to join them in the street outside.   Best put my pants on then before going out to see the 'lights in the sky'.  Here's the Aurora over York from my back garden a few weeks ago.  A first for me !

I walk further down the street and notice the distant horizon.  I am surrounded by false dawns.  Low to the tree and rooftops I see the faint glow of non-sodium digitally white light reflected from the underside of the low clouds in the west - a very non dawn like direction.  That'll be Leeds then.  Some 20 miles away.  That fainter light to the left?  Perhaps that's Wakefield?  I turn the corner and see a large broad expanse of white light in the North East.  Well, that must be York!  

I walk towards the west, drawn on by what appears to be Blackpool's illuminations in the distance.  No Wayne, that's the electricians house.  A man bereft of work going by how often his vans are parked outside.  Well, I think he's expensive (I know he is cos he did the landlord electrical safety check at my other house).  He's either got a lot of kids or a lot of time as he has erected a plethora of illuminated decorations and projectors that positively smother his house and garden in twinkly multi coloured light.  Wow that man is either gonna get one helluva electricity bill or has best applied his knowledge and skills to bypass his meter!

I continue to walk.  Passed by just the one boy racer with a rorp who failed to scare the birds away, and was probably on his way home to wife number 1 after poking some ash tray overnight.  

The Nightingales for sure are following me on my morning wander.  I pass by Acomb wood and eye its entrance.  Buried in the darkness the Nightingale sirens do their best to lure me in.  To a place of danger and of running aground.  No.  I am afraid.  It is dark.  My phone with its associated light is at home and I just don't want to have one of those 'ooh, I hate the bush' moments Crocodile Dundee style. 

It's a lovely calm morning.  I am only wearing a t-shirt under my lightweight jacket yet I feel cosy and warm.  As I walk I see one other person.  A petite lady wrapped up in a covid mask.  We share a polite 'good moaning' officer Crabtree style as we almost pass each other.  Don't worry,  I had remembered to put my trousers on before I left home so that can't be the reason why she crossed the road.  Probably looking for a Christmas turkey...

I am almost back home.  I walk past Roy's house.  Like me he has had cataract operations, his in Bradford, which left him with bad kaleidoscopic vision in both eyes.  Me too!  I've had kaleidoscopic problems after visiting Bradford in the past but a course of antibiotics cleared that itchy scratchy mess up.  His subsequent operations to replace his plastic lenses, this time under a general anaesthetic, have commenced with the first one done and the second due soon.  Good.  I go past Irene's house, a lovely lady who is about to leave the neighbourhood having sold up but as yet not sure where she is going to drop anchor. I wish her fair weather and safe shores.  

I pass by Monica's house.  A bright sparkly 95 year old who sadly lost her husband Charlie last year.   A lovely gent.  Then pass 80 (ahem) Mary who is fretting about her upcoming hip replacement operation and with whom I chat frequently cos we both have the same warped mind.  And finally I'm back outside my neighbour Janet and John's home.  Also in their 80's. A man getting deep into the throws of dementia and a woman I now call wife number 2 because husband number 1 is failing in regard to all (well I hope not quite all) of his duties.  Both are having Christmas dinner with me today along with my brother and his partner Elaine and their son - Brad the Lad.

And that's it.  I'm back home.  First things first.  I get my prick out (no, not that) and take another blood test.  Blood sugar is back down to 5.8. Good.  I make myself a coffee in Charlie's mug and get on with making the Yorkshire pudding batter ready for the oven later today.  

So to finish today's ramble.  Why did I get up at 3.30am and what did I do before I went for the walk.

Well, I wrote a letter to give to someone for Christmas because I felt it important to do so, especially today.  

I have sent them this message.  Redacted for protection of the innocent.  

Dear xxxxxxxxxx

No, I'm sorry.  My V1 of this blog included the content of that letter but on reflection I've decided to delete it.  It is a personal thing between me and the recipient, a cancer sufferer, to wish them well and to remind them whatever their needs I am here to help whenever they need.  Perhaps my way of giving a message of hope and support for all time as a Christmas present on this day today.

Nuff said...

Well as you have read - going back to bed and the sleeping bit was attempted but didn't happen.  Perhaps the Nightingales were trying to cheer me up and to personally thank me for the things that I have done.  Perhaps.  I'd like to think so.  

Nonetheless, right now, even though I live alone, and even if the birds had not been there, I know I am blessed to be surrounded by the love and gratitude of many.  Thank you.  That makes me feel GOOD.  And though this blog I would like to say thank you to you for the great things that you have similarly done.  

My best wishes to you all today.  

Merry Christmas!

Ciao for now

[*1] Klootzak - It's Dutch - I was told by a Dutch man when I worked in the Netherlands that it referred to yer nads / yer bits / yer zak and its klootish contents - but dictionary.com has other nasty descriptors too!