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Your stories

Georgina's Blog Post

IT IS 3am and I awake groggily to what is obviously a midweek party at the home of a neighbour.

As loud conversations float through my open windows on the night air, punctuated by gales of laughter, I curse the thoughtless bastards.

James has woken me several nights running this week and I am so tired even my dreams are filled with the overwhelming desire to sleep.

But as I emerge from the depths of my slumbers it occurs to me that perhaps the noise isn’t coming from the neighbours after all, but from somewhere very much closer to home.

It is coming from James’ bedroom and for one happy moment I think that perhaps we have cracked it – he is awake and has for the first time decided to watch TV rather than wake me up to tell me about it.

Then reality hits.

How is the noise, through two solid oak doors and the length of the landing, so overwhelming?

I leap out of bed and into James’ room where the noise hits me like a wall.

James has put The Simpsons on, at a volume so loud it is excruciating, and as it belts out I realise the ‘thoughtless bloody neighbours’ disturbing the night air are in fact us...

James meanwhile has raised the blind, torn off his night bag which is now dribbling pee around the bedroom floor and is trying manfully, but unsuccessfully, to get dressed.

I switch off the TV, show James that it is still dark outside, clean the floor with the mop and bucket which now stands permanently to hand in our bathroom, tidy away his clothes and persuade him back to bed.

Once settled I ask him what he thought he was doing, and he gives me a sniffy explanation.

“It is daytime and I was trying to get dressed,” he says with the somewhat haughty air he has adopted when cornered.

“But I will tell you something right now - the staff aren’t doing nearly enough to help...”

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