Habibi snores. He always has. It's the way he's built. In any position, and without a trace of alcohol in him, he snores gently, or breathes peacefully, occasionally snuffling like a newborn baby. Adorable. But with a late night glass of wine or beer inside him, he snores like a good-un, like a tractor in a field down the road. Anything more, and we get road works, a digger, a combine harvester, an ancient central heating boiler that rattles, roars and shudders with terrible force................... and intermittent silences of almost eerie intensity. Give this man spirits, and I could sell tickets.
When we stay with friends or family, they look at me with sympathy, and him with something approaching awe. Overnight camps are a real community experience.
Over the years, he has tried pillows, throat/nosedrops and snorestrips; while I have tried pillows, muttered requests, sharp commands, nudges, earplugs, cotton wool, headphones (with cotton wool), headphones (soft background music), ear-protectors (yellow ones), separate beds, separate rooms and over-the-counter sleeping pills. Also lie-ins, afternoon naps and early nights. Vitamin B compound. Deep breathing. Visualisation.
Over the years, at 3 and 4 and 5 o'clock in the morning, I have considered divorce, murder and suicide. Made tea. Made sandwiches. Read. Blogged. Written miserable diary entries and farcical rhymes. Gone for walks. Cleaned out the fridge. Ironed.
I have lain next to my darling husband and trembled with cumulative fatigue, distress, self-pity, fury and loathing.
What I want to know is: how the hell does he sleep through it?
I really wish the alarm wasn't set for an hour and a half hence.
P.S. Sorry honey.