Cor blimey. How is a man supposed to sleep around here, eh? That big moon thing keeps shining brightly. Ok, so it’s my fault for sleeping without any curtains drawn (or in my case, blinds closed – what are curtains for?), but it seems far more natural to sleep with the natural light and dark coming in from outside. So, recently that moon has been beaming straight in and onto my face. It’s like waking up with a burglar’s torch shining in your face.
Along with the moon comes a new pest. The trees outside my bedroom window house some birds. Loud birds. And they sing. Is it me or are birds getting louder and louder? I read somewhere that they are, in order to be heard by each other above the hub-bub of London traffic noises. I’m sure if I was listening to them in a gentle summer’s afternoon I’d be saying how perfect they are. However, through the night when birds are not supposed to sing, what are they doing awake? The moon?
When there is no moon, and I go to bed, they sing. It took me a few nights to realise why. Turning on the light in the bedroom wakes them up. It obviously shines straight out of the window and into their tree. They go, “Ah, must be time to do the loud morning thing!” and spend the next two hours singing.
Now the bedroom has to be sneaked into. Lights are not allowed to be switched on to wake the birds up. So, all bedroom functions are done in the dark. Birds asleep, and silence reigns. Bliss.
Wait a minute. What now? Is that the scary sound of foxes mating or somebody murdering a baby in my garden? Sigh.
England's England 