LIVING with a snorer is hell. Broken nights are torture and, annoyingly, most men don’t think they snore, or if they do they think it’s not that bad. Twenty years I’ve lived with it and at last we have a breakthrough.
Let me set the scene. A fishing trip. Twin beds. Two grown men. Bed 1: David, a snorer in denial. Bed 2: Leo, his friend.
Leo was first asleep. The second his head hit the pillow, the snoring began.
David started with a whispered “Leo” and ended up screeching “Leo!” but Leo snored on.
David leapt up and dunted him on the shoulder. Leo turned over, snoring with vigour. Between then and dawn, David claimed he managed a few minutes’ sleep. Awaking exhausted, he was surprised to find he was surrounded by books. They were all over his bed and all over the floor next to him. Wow, I must have taken up sleep reading he thought briefly as Leo stirred.
“Morning,” said David.
“Morning,” replied Leo.
“You were snoring like a pig last night,” Dave accused.
“I was not!”
“I was not!” said Leo. “I was awake all night listening to you!”
“Rubbish! I was awake all night listening to you.”
“Nonsense, I had to get of bed and thump you.”
“Well I shouted at you and you didn’t hear a thing.”
“It’s true! I even started throwing books at you to get you to shut up.”
Silence ... Ah, the books.
I got a text: “I now understand how awful sleeping with a snorer is and I will do something about it.”
I’ve been telling him for 20 years his snoring is a nightmare. One complaint from his pal and he’s sorting it out. How? I will report back.
• For more from Alison Craig, visit alisonsdiary.com