You'll remember me, when the West wind moves,
Among the fields of barley,
You'll forget the sun, in his jealous sky,
As we walk in fields of gold ..
It's the same old story. You finish something major, enter that phase of completion and freedom that you craved for so long and after a couple of days you're already winding up with the first onsets of boredom. In between eating cake and farting about on the internet, I'm half-arsedly trying to get my job in the pub back and trying to convince my sister not to base her choice of future universities solely on the attractiveness of the people in the prospectus.
I am very tired. I'd say I'd been this tired for the last 4 years but that'd be a lie. This is a new kind of tired. I have nothing of real substance to do so my body clock is shot to buggery and then some. I've started taking naps when I'm in Leeds, in which I occasionally dream about sleeping. My yawns are becoming something else. They're not just contagious, they cause bouts of narcolepsy among anyone who makes eye contact with me. Treat me like the sun and don't look at me directly.
I have the song Fields of Gold stuck in my head. It's a catchy one, particularly Sting's version.
It's been on repeat for three days. Wedged in my mind, somewhere between my memories of getting stung by a bee when I was about 11 and my knowledge of what maple syrup tastes like. And it's squatted there three days long. It's built a little hut and cooks marshmallows over it's little squatter fire. I cannot get it to leave my head.
Play me off, Sting.
