blog link

blog link
bloglink

Thursday, May 31, 2012

Night terrors

We suffer the night terrors here in Devereauxville. Sleep walking, sleep talking, sleep screaming and sleep snoring (me). We have it all over here.

Nothing unusual about that, you might be thinking. Well, if only it stopped there.

You see, our families have also had episodes like sleep driving and reenacting part of the Mary Poppins 'Spoonful of Sugar' scene: the bit where she's leaning out the window, extending her finger for a robin to perch on.

And now it seems Cousin8 is getting set to take his place alongside the best of us.

The other night he woke screaming and was inconsolable. Apparently he was so loud the neighbours heard him. Considering they live on acreage and these neighbours were over fifty meters away, this was no mean feat.

"Mind you, these were the same people," said Cousin8's father, "who didn't realize their own car's horn was stuck blaring at two in the morning. Not until three neighbours showed up banging on their door."

So he was loud, is where we're going here. And if the neighbours thought he was loud from fifty meters down the road, they should have been in the same house.

We go down this road often, so we know.

It's when they step it up a notch and start doing odd things that it becomes more worrying. Or more funny. It can go either way.

Worrying, for example, was when Tracey went on a tour of Europe and was concerned she was going to sleep walk and wake up lost in a strange country. She actually woke up in heading out her motel door in France because she was in a sleeping bag and tripped.

Along the same lines, Nanny always slept with a tent pole between her legs when she went camping cause she didn't want to wander off into the woods.

So that's the worrying part if things get out of hand.

But it's not all bad. As a teen Tracey was once found kneeling on all fours sleep-barking at her closed bedroom door. Presumably she wanted to be let out for a piddle.

Now that's funny.

In fact, the most worrying thing about this story is what Tracey is going to do to me when she reads I've told everyone in our blog.

It might well be me who wakes up screaming in terror tonight.








No comments:

About Me

My photo

Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

Popular Posts