I blame it on the Olympics.

Originally I was most looking forward to the fact that I didn’t have to brave the commute into the office for a full two weeks.  When you hate crowded trains so much that you change your hours to miss the rush hour – resulting in getting up at 4.30 am – having a few weeks of normal start time with a commute from bed to lounge is AMAZING.

I have got into the Olympics a bit thanks to TTB (who is obsessed), which is pretty impressive considering I’ve never sat down to watch any of it in previous years.  I’m starting to go off it again though, because in addition to some sort of lurgey that means I’ve been waking up at silly o’clock to cough / sneeze / sweat profusely, I have had to contend with Olympic fever from others.

Last night Norman cat seemed to have devised a racecourse around my bedroom about the point when I drifted off.  On his third circuit of chair, bed, windowsill and chest of drawers I decided to investigate.  It turned out he was doing some sort of a relay involving a moth…

The night before it was TTB who suffered the fever.  Again, just as I was about to drift off, an arm was enthusiastically flung across my face.  TTB was asleep but still managed to respond to my ‘what the hell are you doing?!’  The response?  ‘I’m saving a penalty!’ (This was followed by a lot of words that may have made sense in a different order but definitely made no sense at that point).  A few hours later TTB seemed to be doing some sort of sleep dancing.  I didn’t attempt a conversation this time but did ask if he remembered in the morning.  Silly me, he’d not been dancing.  No, he’d been driving a Formula One car around Bumpkinsville in his dream… (and yes, I know that Formula One is not an Olympic sport, but you get the idea).

I’m looking forward to seeing if I get to sleep though tonight – I’m starting to feel like all of you mummy friends :o)

The telephone box offering to the olympics