Day 113 - Brain transplant needed?

Baggy has never suffered from insomnia. Well that's not strictly true but that's another entirely different story. Oh, you want to know bloggees? Well, around sixteen years ago Baggy rented a little one-bedroomed flat in Teddington in Greater London. It was in a complex of modern low-rise flats that over-looked Bushy Park (one of the old Royal hunting parks). In fact it is still absolutely full of deer. During the rutting season the noise of the stags trying to out-"moo" each other was spectacular. They were often literally a few yards from Baggy's sitting room. Don't panic, they were the other side of a road and a high wall, but Baggy's flat was the upper one (of two floors) so she could watch them easily. Nope, they weren't the problem. That was a complete aside by Creative Clara. Sorry.

The problem was Psychic Ploppo. Every single night for a matter of weeks, Ploppo was "visited" by (literally) a queue of people trying to get her attention. Imagine if you will, the slowly moving queue to get into a theatre, popular restaurant or football ground. Imagine that you are a few feet away from this queue, staring at it from the side. Imagine that every single one of the people in the queue turn and look at you as they pass. Straight into your eyes. Seeming to want your help. But you have no idea what they want, because they don't speak. Well no, they probably were speaking. All at once. So all Baggy could hear was a babble of noise. Now hold the thought that this was a modern (1980's) flat on the first floor. It got so bad that Baggy was having a slight panic attack which resulted in serious palpitations every night as soon as she got into bed. She got scared to go to bed. Going to sleep made the visitors go away. But she couldn't get to sleep. It was only when a friend, who happens to be a professional psychic told Psychic Ploppo how to protect Baggy (by "surrounding" herself with a one-way mirror) that the visions stopped. No bloggees, neither Baggy or Plop have any idea what that was all about to this day. Or whether it's a common occurrence. Have any of you had a similar thing happen? Or know anything about it?

Anyway, let's start again. Baggy has never really suffered from insomnia. Until she found Lawrence. So that made some sense. Worry. But Lawrence-the-durmoid-cyst has gone off on his new adventures, so why does Baggy now seem to suffer from insomnia nearly every night? She has always, always woken up (and had to get up) at least two or three times a night. Even as a kid. Lawrence's fault? Possibly. But she always went straight back to sleep almost instantly, once back in bed. But now, at some point during the night, one of these "get-ups", will result in an hour, two hours or more of lying in bed tossing, turning and getting more and more frustrated that she can't get back to sleep. Clever Bird is praying that the new mattress might help because frankly the adverts for Botox that have started to appear on Baggy's Facebook feed are quite well targeted. Well, no of course they're not really. Baggy would never have an operation out of choice personally. She's quite happy to age disgracefully...............