The wee small hours

I haven't been sleeping well recently. I don't know why. There aren't any obvious reasons other than hormones which decide to stoke my thermostat at 2 in the morning so I have to fling the duvet off to cool down. I go from blazing inferno to sub-zero in approximately 30 seconds. I'm anticipating a good bout of pneumonia before the year is out. Other than that my mind is clear of worries. But I suddenly wake with the most peculiar thoughts. For example, last night I woke wondering what kind of fabric 'scratch' is. You know, when people say they make something from scratch. Is it like cotton or wool? Or is it synthetic? I worry that's it's like nylon which causes me a lot of static problems. Is it waterproof? Does it require pre-shrinking before you make something from it? Can it be machined or is it best hand sewn? And what colours does it come in? I think it must be quite a high quality material as you often hear people say 'Oh, it didn't come up to scratch,' when comparing other things to it. And it must be durable - scratch proof and scratch resistant are phrases that are bandied about by the people in the know.

And what about gnomes that disappear from gardens and then send postcards to their owners from foreign climes? These gnomes always have names. 'I miss Gerald so much,' cries Mrs Whibble from 23, Bonkerhall Road. 'The place just isn't the same without him.' Meanwhile, Mr Whibble sits in his potting shed bitterly feeding another postcard from Gerald, currently in Hawaii, into the paper shredder and wondering how many more days he'll be there before his wife brings him a cuppa and a Hobnob.

I hope things settle down. I got used to sleeping through the night when I gave up teaching and it's been jolly nice feeling normal after all these years. Perhaps it's just a blip. Perhaps I'm getting excited about Christmas just a tad too early this year. Perhaps I am starting to be haunted by the unleashing of my creative genius?

Perhaps gnomes go abroad to make things from scratch?