It’s fine... I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

I thought I’d caught up... I honestly did.

We went to Canada, but you know that. 

We went to Canada. I broke a tooth, but the dentist in Canada was lovely; he fixed me up with some temporary composite and told me I’d need another gold crown when I got home, but he was quick and efficient, and not expensive, so that was fine. My eye swelled up, but dark glasses and good living sorted that out in a couple of days. I had a fabulous time bibbling on the Q&A panels I was invited to take part in, and I spent an amazing day in the mountains with Heike the hiker and her husband Erik, who I cannot recommend highly enough if you ever fancy spending time in bit of the Rocky Mountains that happens to be in Canada.

What I didn’t do in Canada was sleep.

OK, that’s not quite true. What I didn’t do in Canada was sleep enough. I did sleep. Not sleeping at all would have been virtually impossible; I was, after all, in Canada for six days, and I slept for a total of sixteen hours. Every morning, over breakfast, I was invited to give the guys a running total of hours spent unconscious, and every night the guys fervently wished me a good night’s sleep. Everyone was very kind and very sweet, but even over the weekend, at the event, I was virtually blink-sleeping, and that really isn’t good. I was in stupid-head mode. Thank heavens the Canadians are so damned relaxed and forgiving, because I have absolutely no idea of half of the things I said or did.

Then we travelled home and I didn’t sleep on the flight, either. I hoped I might, and I even took my lovely tranquiliser, but nothing, nada, zip, zilch... There was no sleep... none.

When we landed in the UK, I got through the day unpacking and doing laundry, catching up on  e-mails and doing bits and pieces for the daughter’s and the husband’s birthdays, and I went to bed at my usual UK time.

Huzzah!

I woke up twelve hours later.

It was heaven! I felt like a human being again.

Three hours after that, I inadvertently took a two hour nap when I thought I was reading a book.

Then I slept another ten hours on Thursday night.

I had a three hour nap on Friday...

It’s now Sunday, and I slept another ten hours last night.

Either I’m five years old, all of a sudden, or I have jetlag that has lasted four days!

I guess I always was an all or nothing kinda girl; this is just one more of the very many things that proves it.