As you probably know by now, I’m a lover of the absurd but rather magnificent practice of occasionally pretending bedrooms don’t exist.
This involves finding somewhere else to sleep, like perched on the side of a hill, or suspended between two trees in a hammock – or, thankfully very rarely, in a corner of a field in Orkney with the rain hammering down on me.
All this sounds extremely foolish until you have a go – then it’s just mostly foolish, but also enormously life-affirming in a way it’s difficult to put your finger on. I’d recommend it to anyone.
It’s also, as I noted in my last post, a good way to battle insomnia and muddled sleep patterns – and, once you get past the nervy thrill of not having four walls around you for a change, it can relax your stressed-out brain and body an absolute shedload.
Fancy giving it a go? Because this Saturday, the night of the 11th July, there’s the perfect excuse.
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