I wander downstairs in search of tea and toast, anything to stop the nausea that results from several sleepless nights. The dog raises her head and one eyebrow from her secure place under the table as if to say, “Have you any idea what time it is?” Sadly, I am well aware that it is the middle of the night. I am no more happy about that than she is. I had gone to bed early with a book in the hope of catching up some sleep. I read for about half an hour before turning off the lamp and drifting off. I woke to darkness; didn’t need to do more than open my eyes to know that it was before 4am and I needed to go back to sleep. I tried, for ages, before giving up and reaching for the alarm. Quarter to midnight. Wonderful.

Another wave of nausea. Lie down on sofa till it passes. The dog joins me, the warmth of her head on my ankles is comforting. Maybe I should stay here. The toaster pops. Or maybe I should eat. I stand at the open door… someone had mentioned meteors. No chance tonight. The low, mist is orange with the reflected light of the village street lamps. An owl hoots. I see a slow silhouette glide across the sickly sky. The constant drip of water from a gutter I cannot fix punctuates every second, marking time, echoing the ticking of the clock in the kitchen which marks a constant six forty two. It ticks but does not count.

A rustle in the flowerbeds, lush with spring growth. I close the door hurriedly as the dog raises her head, ears cocked… the neighbours won’t thank me for allowing her vigilance at this time of night. She turns over, four feet in the air, head dangling over the edge of the sofa, watching through half closed eyes.

Non-silence pervades the house. It is not an empty place. The breathing of two creatures, the whirr of the computer, the hum of the fridge and the mockery of the clock. In the quasi silence their noise takes second place to the tinnitus. Brilliant. Once my attention has been drawn to it there is no avoiding it, the test-card whine takes over. Nowhere to hide from the noise; tiredness leaves me defenceless. It reminds me of a recurring nightmare from childhood… the singing wires that slice through the flying body like cheese wires, unavoidable. I’d wondered about that dream.

I update the website. The room looks shabby, the light awful… I need more lightbulbs, odd how they all seem to go at once. Should I answer the emails? I yawn. The dog curls up tightly in the warm place on the sofa, tucking her nose under her tail, looking at me over its feathers. “Go to bed,” the eyes say. Yes, my body replies, uncomfortable and restless. Go to bed.