Fake Country Song...

Earlier today, I decided that "My Glass is Half Full (Of You)" would be a great name for a country song. This afternoon I felt that I had a moral compulsion to write this song...

They say that this world can be trying

That it’s all just thieving and lying

My brother sees this, and he’s at a loose end

He says he that he just can’t comprehend

How it is that I smile all day through

It’s ‘cause my glass is half full of you

Yeah, my dog is dead

Got no roof o’er my head,

But my glass is half full of you

They say that it’s hard to be a woman

Giving all your love to just one man

And every single day, you say that I ain’t got a clue

Why it is that you’re feeling quite so blue

But darling, what else can I do

When my glass is half full of you?

Yeah, my dog is dead

Got no roof o’er my head,

But my glass is half full of you

May the gods of song forgive me...

Sweet Dreams...

I tend to listen to music or the radio as I am attempting to go to sleep. I know that, on one level, this is counter intuitive. That it probably stops me from getting to sleep. That I should really just close my eyes and let sleep steal over me. And I do this whenever I can. It's a good feeling.

The problem is that, most of the time, it doesn't work like this. My brain starts shouting at me instead. Frequently, just when I feel like I might be near dropping off, it will throw some long forgotten memory my way, to remind me of my own inadequacies. Something deeply embarrassing that has happened to me during my life. Or something unpleasant or painful. Like some little homunculus pointing out mental scars and shouting "Remember this one! Wow! You were a complete dick!" And it will often continue as long as it can, undermining my confidence and waiting for my sanity and self-esteem to collapse entirely.

Last night was an odd one. It began with a memory from when I was very young. I was with my parents, who were themselves doing a scavenger hunt organised by a pub in Bickleigh (the village where I went to primary school). I was probably somewhere between five and eight years old, I guess. One of the items on the scavenger hunt list was, perhaps oddly, a snail. My parents had given me the snail to look after, as I was fascinated by creepy crawlies of all kinds when I was a wee 'un. I remember, when we got back to the pub, I had the snail on my hand. It was just crawling about, like snails do. I showed it to another boy (of whom I have forgotten the name), the son of some of my parents friends. It's fair to say that he wasn't quite such a fan of invertebrates as I was. I know this because, upon seeing my snail friend, he slammed his hand down upon it, crushing it. So I now had a dead snail smeared across my hand. Which was deeply upsetting as, in our short time together, I had developed an attachment to the slimy little thing. And nobody likes having snail innards on them anyway. So I cried like the tiny child I was, and ran back to my parents.

No idea why that memory has stuck with me so, or why it should return in the dead of night like it did. But, regardless, it is not a feeling you want to lie there reliving as you try to sleep. The feelings of sadness, shock, powerlessness, guilt and inadequacy. So I decided to listen to an episode of Yes Minister on iPlayer. At which point I fell to sleep.

What Will You Do?

Song. Ultra-twee as a form of self-defense against the world...

What did you do this morning?
What did you do when you woke up?
What did you do this afternoon in the sunshine?

What did you do when he told you?
What did you do when you found out?
What did you do, did you ask her name?

Don't lose sight of the big picture,
Don't lose sight of how things could be,
Don't lose sight of who you are,
'Cause you're something else,

Something different,
Something good.

What did you do come the evening?
What did you do when you got home?
Did you still make tea for two tonight?

What did you do come the night time?
What did you do under starlight?
What did you do, did you sleep alone tonight?

And don't lose sight of the hard times,
Every time he made you cry.
And don't lose sight of the good times,
Every time he made you smile.

'Cause I know,
'Cause I know you're strong.

What will you do?
What will you do?
What will you do?