Tag Archives: snoring

Snory Story Revisited


Heres a story I came across while I was looking back at a few old posts. It made me laugh out loud as I remembered it. I hope it makes you chuckle too.

Here’s a little snory story for you

Since weeknights have become a no alcohol zone in our house in an effort to economise, lose weight and generally get healthy, I’ve noticed a welcome but totally unexpected side effect. Boofuls no longer spends most nights snoring and I no longer spend most nights cursing, digging him in the ribs and shouting at him to ‘”Turn over and SHUDDUP!!” Usually followed by, “Right! That’s it! You’re p***ing me off now. Go and sleep in the spare room.”

Peace, perfect peace. I’m loving it. I’m loving getting up in the morning and not spending half the morning trying to get my poor brain out of it’s sleep deprived fog.

Weekends, however are the perfect reason to open a nice bottle of sauvignon blanc and partake of a wee drinkie.

Last Friday night, sauvignon blanc-ed to a nice fuzzy level, Boofuls and I retired to our bed.

Sure enough, within a few seconds – yes, that wasn’t a typo I did mean seconds, how that man can fall asleep so fast is beyond me. It’s like turning off a light – Boofuls was asleep and snoring gently. I’d decided to read a couple of chapters of my latest Harry Potter.

Within a few more seconds the snore fest had begun and the volume level began to rise. Soon it was reverberating around the bedroom and I was starting to suffer from sense of humour failure.

Now you may or may not know that I’m not a woman known for my tolerance. I let the cacophany continue for a few minutes with the occasional “shuddup” or “turn over”.  It was obvious he was dreaming by the twitching and muttering that was going on in between the snores but I soon got bored of listening to it and as normal announced. “Right! That’s it. You’re p***ing me off now, go and sleep in the spare room.”

He jumped, grunted and in the most pathetic voice you can imagine said, ” I can’t. I don’t know where it is.”

Oh how that tickled my funny bone! I was apopleptic with laughter and stuffing the duvet into my mouth in an attempt to not laugh out loud and wake him up too much.

” Well, love. Get out of bed, turn right, open the door and walk up the landing and it’s the first door on the right.” By now I thought he’d be fully woken up and noticing my sarcastic tone but instead he thanked me gratefully for my directions, got up and went on his way!

I laid there laughing till the tears poured down my face and my stomach ached. The following morning he didn’t remember a single thing about it.

Sniff sniff sniffle cough


Just for housekeeping’s sake: I’ll be posting again later with yesterdays,  (or is it the day before’s? ) zero to hero challenge.

In the meantime….

Oh dear. Boofuls came away from his meeting yesterday with the makings of a major cold. By the time he’d completed the long drive home from the southern counties it had developed nicely into a stinker. He arrived home grey faced, exhausted and obviously not well. This is no man flu, this is the real thing, well, so he tells me.

Such a joy  to sleep with at the best of times, now the lovely snoring has been added to with sniffles, snorts, grunts and a few other noises I’m not sure it should be possible for a human being to create. In an effort to be nice when he’s not well I didn’t kick him out to the spare room, neither did I bludgeon him to death with a blunt instrument although it was a close run thing once or twice.

What? Why don’t I sleep in the spare room?

Now, dear reader, we’ve had this conversation before,  in this post, please don’t make me repeat myself.

Moving on…..

To add to my joy at once again being deprived of my much needed beauty sleep, I heard a couple of barks coming from downstairs. Oh no. That usually signals the start of a doggie seizure. I hauled my backside out of bed to go and investigate. Douggie the doggie was fast asleep on his bed. He opened one eye and wagged his tail feebly a couple of times as if to say, ‘Alright? It’s a bit early, Mum.’ and then he went back to sleep. Lucky dog. He should try  getting some sleep in my room, I was half tempted to crawl into his bed with him.

I sloped off back upstairs, cursing under my breath about sleep deprivation and made a detour via the bathroom.  As I crept back into my bedroom, I nearly had a heart attack as something moved and came towards me, a white ghostly shape. A ghost!

No. A dog. He’d slunk upstairs while I was in the bathroom.  Obviously taking me at my word about trying to sleep in my room.

I let him stay in just in case a seizure was imminent because he does usually come and ask for help when a seizure is imminent and I’d feel horribly guilty if I’d kicked him out.

That decision effectively put an end to any plans I’d had about getting some shut eye. Boofuls snored, sniffed and snorted. Douggie paced, panted and pawed at me in between trying to jump on the bed and flopping onto the floor with a bump, making me think that he was actually having a seizure and not just royally winding me up.

It didn’t take long until I’d had enough. I announced to no one in particular, “Oh for Gawd’s sake!!!! RIGHT!!!!! I’ll just get up shall I?”

And so started today.  How did the start of your day go?

I can’t hear anything


Ah, they’re back. How I’ve missed them.

No, wait. That was a lie. I meant: SHUDDUP WITH THE BLOODY SNORING!!!

I am of course referring to Boofuls’ nightly snore fests.  There’s nothing like being woken up twenty times a night thinking you’re about to be run over by a juggernaut. The noise is horrendous.

The other night I suggested gently to him that he might want to put a sock in it. He sat up.

“What?”

“Shut that bloody racket up!”

“What racket? I can’t hear anything.”

There are times………

 

So. Moving on. We’re down to three.

Three what? Three more weddings, one of which is today, and then I am no longer a wedding photographer and Boofuls is no longer a wedding photographers bitch.

No that I’ve been counting them down or anything but number one can’t come soon enough. It’s fair to say that the novelty of shooting weddings and working the associated twelve/fourteen hour day has worn off. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we even got properly fed and watered but apparently wedding photographers live on fresh air.

I’m ready to settle down to some good old studio work. Bring on the sprogs!

 

 

Snory story


Here’s a little snory story for you to keep you going till I can write a proper post about our lovely romantic anniversary dinner last night.

Since weeknights have become a no alcohol zone in our house in an effort to econimise, lose weight and generally get healthy, I’ve noticed a welcome but totally unexpected side effect. Boofuls no longer spends most nights snoring and I no longer spend most nights cursing, digging him in the ribs and shouting at him to ‘”Turn over and SHUDDUP!!” Usually followed by, “Right! That’s it! You’re p***ing me off now. Go and sleep in the spare room.”

Peace, perfect peace. I’m loving it. I’m loving getting up in the morning and not spending half the morning trying to get my poor brain out of it’s sleep deprived fog.

Weekends, however are the perfect reason to open a nice bottle of sauvignon blanc and partake of a wee drinkie.

Last Friday night, sauvignon blanc-ed to a nice fuzzy level, Boofuls and me retired to our bed.

Sure enough, within a few seconds – yes, that wasn’t a typo I did mean seconds, how that man can fall asleep so fast is beyond me. It’s like turning off a light – Boofuls was asleep and snoring gently. I’d decided to read a couple of chapters of my latest Harry Potter.

Within a few seconds the snore fest had begun and the volume level began to rise. Soon it was reverberating around the bedroom and I was starting to suffer from  sense of humour failure.

Now you may or may not know that I’m not a woman known for my tolerance. I let the cacophany continue for a few minutes with the occasional “shuddup” or “turn over”. It was obvious he was dreaming by the twitching and muttering that was going in in between the snores but I soon got bored of  listening to it and as normal announced. “Right! That’s it. You’re p***ing me off now, go and sleep in the spare room.”

He jumped, grunted and in the most pathetic voice you can imagine said, ” I can’t. I don’t know where it is.”

Oh how that tickled my funny bone! I was apopleptic with laughter and stuffing the duvet into my mouth in an attempt to not laugh out loud and wake him up too much.

” Well, love. Get out of bed, turn right, open the door and walk up the landing and it’s the first door on the right.”  By now I thought he’d be fully woken up and noticing my sarcastic tone but instead he thanked me gratefully for my directions, got up and went on his way!

I laid there laughing till the tears poured down my face and my stomach ached.  The following morning he didn’t remember a single thing about it.

Animal Magic


Cor! That’s a blast from the past. Anyone remember Animal Magic?

Here’s a link to  clip from Animal Magic. I Used to love this programme when I was a kid. Of course we had to watch it in black and white because we weren’t posh enough for a colour telly.

It’s been a funny old week with animals this week. Our old cat,  Pebbles, yup, the very Pebbles in the title of this blog, the very one I do regularly trip over in the dark as she’s jet black and sleeps in the oddest places, will be 20 in couple of months.  Now with only a few teeth left in hear head, severely rickety, totally deaf and almost blind she spends most of her time asleep on the landing. Every now and then when she’s sleeping really soundly I prod her as I go past to make sure she’s still alive.

She still seems to think she’s a dog and follows Boofuls round the house , keeping to heel far better than Mrs Woofy ever does. Boofuls told me last night that he now communicates with her via sign language since she’s as deaf as a post. She responds as well. Clever cat.

Mrs Woofy stayed for her usual Thursday night sleepover after doggie boot camp.  This week we were practising emergency stops. The scenario being that your dog was across a road and a bus was coming so you had to get it to lie down on command. That’d be the dog, not the bus, just so we’re all clear.  Why the hell would your dog be on the opposite side of the road to you anyway? if you’re on a road surely it should be on a lead, or is that just me? Anyway. I digress.  The dogs were made to sit at the far end of the room.  The handlers (that’d be me, I never in my life imagined the title ‘dog handler’ would ever be attached to me. I hate dogs) had to call their dogs to them and as they reached the halfway point we had to holler “STAY!!!”  The plan being that the dog did indeed stay. Guess what? She did!  She’ll be taking an apple for the teacher next week, class swot as she is.

For once I had some proper dog chow for her breakfast. I’d stolen a bag of her normal food from Gem and The Rev’s. Normally the poor dog has to eat cat food when she stays with me. Not only cat food but the cheapest, wateriest cat food we can find, stuff that has hardly any lumps of meat in it because Pebbles can’t eat lumps any more, she only has the gravy. Feeling very pleased with myself  for finally having some proper dog food in I poured the dried  food into the bowl and put it down for her. She looked at it, sniffed it, looked at me in disgust as if to say, ‘What’s this crap? ‘ and then sat by my side gazing up at me with her limpid brown eyes.   The message was obvious:’ Can I have some of that nice meaty, covered in delicious gravy cat food?’  She  obviously thinks that it’s her Friday morning treat. Oh well. I aim to please. Cat food it was. Gem and The Rev can have their purloined bag of dried dog food back.

Still on the subject of animals. Boofuls was giving it plenty in the snoring department the other night. I gave him the customary shove in the ribs with a delicately delivered, “SHUDDUP! You sound like a moose.” Rather than turn over as normal he responded sleepily with, “Yes, yes, it does sound like a moose, doesn’t it? A bit bigger though, I think.”

It’s hard to sleep with tears of laughter pouring down your face.

Fun at the farm


MmmmmmOOOOOOOOO!!  MmOOOOOOOOOOO!

I thought I’d fallen asleep in the milking shed the other night. There I was trying to get my much needed beauty sleep (I don’t keep these youthful good looks by being kept awake all night listening to mooing, you know)  when I was continually being woken up by the sounds of the farmyard. Once I’d woken up properly I was quite amused by the various animal noises coming from Boofuls’  direction.

He’d  obviously decided to give his  ‘farmyard’ selection of snores a practice as he’d not used them for a while.

MmmmmmmOOOOOOOO. MmmmmOOOOOOOOOOO. MMMMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOO  Grunt grunt snort

On and on it went. Eventually it stopped being funny to listen to and I gave him a dig in the ribs and a ‘SHUDDUP!”

Well. He stopped mooing in mid moo and turned it into the perfect Peppa Pig snort. Then he woke himself up a bit, just a bit, not so much as to be totally alert.

I took that as my opportunity to get rid of him:

“Go and sleep next door.”

“Aw. Noooooo. In a minute”, he said as he snuggled back down to sleep.

“No. Not in a minute”, I said in my stern voice, ” Now. Go on, I need some kip.”

He sighed heavily. Got out of bed, walked over to the windows and threw them both wide open.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

” You told me to open the window.”  Then he started to fiddle with the curtains, twitching them backwards and forwards like a nosy old biddy pretending to straighten them while spying on the neighbours.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING NOW?” I squealed, totally bemused and amused by his shenanigans.

“Well” he asked me clearly irritated at my unreasonable attitude, ” what do you want me to do then ”

I answered him very slowly and clearly like I was talking to a chld. “I want you to go and sleep next door,” I said while making little shooing movements with my hand.  “Now go on.”

He looked at me with incredulity and in his most scathing voice asked,’ Are you serious?”

By now the tears of laughter were pouring down my face.

“Not next door at the neighbour’s house, I mean next door in the spare room.”

“Oh.”

By now he’d woken up properly, probably because of my howls of laughter.  He picked up his dressing gown and left, mumbling to himslef that it wasn’t that funny.

Oh, it was Boofuls, it really was. I’ve paid money to see shows not as funny as that.

The following morning he didn’t remember a single thing about it.