Top five oddest places I’ve slept in, on or under…
- In a pipe – at some construction site near Grenoble, France. (“Ce n’est pas un lit,” I thought to myself.) I woke and left before being hoisted up by a crane.
- Under a wardrobe (and some mattresses) – after a big night in Dublin. Took a while to be discovered and then extricated.
- At the edge of a cliff – by accident. It was dark. We had been trekking over some small mountains. We were tired. Luckily – so we didn’t walk any further forward. In the morning we discovered the tent was covered in snow. As was the land on either side. But not in front. That’s where the cliff was – and the sea.
- By petrol pumps near Karlsruhe, Germany. That’s where my last lift dropped me. I’d hitched from Poland. There was grass and undergrowth which looked more soft and inviting, but was rustling with quare fellas.* So a nap amidst the hard surfaces, flourescent lighting and idling engines seemed preferable.
- In the middle of a sentence while broadcasting live on the radio. One moment I was giving out some racing results, then next I was slurring… murmuring… silent. People checked the tuning on their radios. Then they heard snoring. How mortifying.**
And I haven’t included all those occasions were I draped myself over another person and promptly dropped off, mouth agape, careless of the proprieties.
No. Hang on. I mean as a baby.
My top five are a bit of a laugh. But I’m conscious of the very many people trying to find rest or respite in odd, uncomfortable or dangerous places because they have – or feel they have – no better alternative. I’ve known some. It’s horrible.
I also know some people trying to improve things for people living in doorways, corners, hostels or sofa-surfing. They work at London Pathway developing integrated healthcare for homeless people and rough sleepers. I predict that we’ll be hearing more about them in future.
You can find out where the other members of the Loose Bloggers Consortium perched, burrowed, slumped and otherwise slept by scrolling down the right hand side of the screen and clicking on their links.
* Quare fellas is an alternative name for r-a-t-s. A wise Manx lady explained to me that the tradition on the Isle of Man is to avoid using the proper name of those creatures, because “if you say their name, they will come.”
** Actually, I cheated. That wasn’t me. He was a dear colleague who was reading the sports news on BBC Radio 5 Live while short of sleep. How we loved playing the clip of him nodding off while speaking again and again. Unlike him, it never got tired.