Cynic in Spain

Real Life on the Costa del Sol

Waking the Dead

Loud noise, was registering in my brain, very loud noise, very, very loud. Having done the usual body count; arms 2, legs 2, bladder full, brain disengaged I began to wake.

Loud noise still, being open to options I went through a few; Burglars? Welcome to anything not nailed down, just don’t disturb me. Police, Fire, Ambulance? Not my problem. World war three? Carry on, but count me out. Alarm clock? Oh shit. Thirty seconds later I stood under the shower. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a particularly heavy sleeper nor one prone to doss in bed all day but I do use my alarm clock sparingly, a kind of personal defcon 3. The logic of this goes as follows:

If I should use it on a daily basis I would get so used to the cacophony and be able to recognise it whilst still in REM sleep that when I really, really needed to get up at a specific time my mind would have worked out a rationaal long beforehand to allow for just another five minutes in bed.

Secondly, after much trial, error and missed appointments I have stumbled upon the perfect noise, guaranteed to send a jolt of adrenaline through even the most case hardened, alcohol induced coma, yes, you’ve guessed it, thanks to the wonders of modern technology my alarm emits the sound of a baby crying.

Actually if it was only crying it wouldn’t work, being a parent myself I’ve become immune to simple crying as a form of self preservation. This digital wonder bawls, producing a decibel level that would shame the Concorde on takeoff using Motorhead’s p.a. system for added effect and, as if that were not enough, it varies the bawling continuously, no easy repetition to tune out here, I tried to leave it going long enough to catch it out but after three minutes had been reduced to a nervous wreck and switched it off to save what is left of my sanity.

I once made the mistake of setting it for the evening instead of morning and arrived home to find the police and social services about to break down my front door, convinced that multiple murders, at the very least, were being committed inside.

So if you do need someone to get you to the airport at 4 a.m. I will definitely be there on time, just don’t be surprised if I turn up with a bottle of warm milk, a fresh nappy and a dazed look in my eye.


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