Elephant in the Room

There is a television in my bedroom. Yep. A television. In my room. Me. Who is forever reminding you that the geopathic stress caused by TV’s and computers in the bedroom are likely to have you blowing a brain gasket. Or something…
And this is not just your usual bedroom television. Heavens no. This is a TV reject from Richard’s house: a great big enormous affair, strapped to the wall and looking down on me like the kind of ugly black rectangular ghoul highly likely to do me a damage after dark. And surrounded by pretty little floral junk-shop pictures so I don’t cry every time I look at it.
It should be clear to you that the very idea of watching TV in bed has me in a kerfuffle, because I, Alison May, have never known such a thing. In fact I have always considered to to be the sort of thing other people do. And having long existed within my very own little bubble and so long terrified of the nightly battle that is trying to get some sleep, I would never, ever have entertained such a mad notion before.
But all of a sudden I’m breaking all my own rules. (Yep, meet little old rule breaker me!). Dallying on the dark side. filled with derring do and encouraged by my own Mother (who has had a telly in her bedroom for as long as I can remember, the old daredevil!), trying to live outside myself a bit. Because lets face it watching Jonathan Creek in my nightie is hardly likely to bring catastrophe reigning down on my head now is it? In fact, I must confess, it’s rather fun. Me and Netflix are having a fine old time retiring to bed early for enlightenment in the form of dubious documentary…
It should now be clear to all of you, that as my Dad keeps telling me: I am preposterous. Or bonkers. Or just plain, good old-fashioned mad. I live in absolute fear of myself. And orange juice drunk from cartons in the fridge that have already been opened. And accidentally stepping into the shower without brushing my teeth. And having to do something other than laundry on a Monday morning. I make rules and I just dare not break them, because I have convinced myself that there are certain little rules that must never, ever be broken and huge big ones a person can happily get away with ignoring!
So yes. There is now a  TV in my bedroom, and though I can’t say that every night will be spent in it’s company, getting into bed early to curl up and watch a film in the comfort of my own bed is simply a pleasure I never knew existed. I lie in the dark sipping bedtime tea and feeling improper. I dance around the bedroom to music videos all by myself and play classical music on the Apple TV as I go through the motions that are the little set of stretching exercises I long ago devised to stand between myself and decrepit middle-youth.
Breaking my own rules is fun. Life might just be too short to worry about geopathic stress…

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