There’s Something to be said for being an Insomniac

Most nights I sleep well, but there are times when I can’t get off to sleep or I wake up in the middle of the night or both. I try not to let it concern me too much: I do not have to work any more and most days I take a restorative afternoon nap anyway. And as I lie in vacant or in pensive mood, my inward eye sees, not daffodils, but remembrances, thoughts, concerns and way too often, worries.

A couple of weeks ago, for no good reason whatsoever—it was before last week’s news hit—the word “Passport” came to mind. Next day I checked, and although my passport expires in March, not February as I had somehow thought, I had better get moving. I had scanned the inside of my passport, but as I wrote this I had a thought and looked at the outside which is emblazoned with gold print “European Union, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.” What is going to happen here? What will my new one say? I wrote about the whole performance ten years ago. I have not yet checked, but I bet the cost has gone up. Considerably. (I do not have to renew my “green card” until next year, but that will be a whole new story.)

Will I embark on any foreign travel? I don’t know because in spite of the surgery which seems to have cured me, at least for the time being, from painful attacks, I know there is the constant chance of a recurring flare. Maybe I will take my neurosurgeon’s advice and carry in my wallet an explanatory note.

I found this rather technicolored one, but the idea of wandering around Heathrow waving a sheet of paper like a twenty-first century leper with a bell does not appeal to me. Besides, the real problem would be getting medical attention.

Still, one thing at a time. Let’s see if I can find a passport photo a little more attractive than the last.