Yes. Well. We had an earthquake. The papers say so and so does every news channel. And so indeed does every other person I know. 5.3 on the Richter scale. This is quite impressive, given that the UK is not on any fault line.
However, here in the Casa de la Rocking Chair, we felt nothing. NOTHING. I slept through the whole thing, and so did my son. Everyone else has stories to relate of thinking that there were burglars under the bed, and such like....me? Nothing. This is a very reassuring thought. I can sleep through an earthquake. One needs to know one is prepared for anything. One can leap into action in emergencies. All I can say is that I am going to have to make arrangements for someone to check whether I am buried under rubble in future quakes. I feel quite cheated in a weird way. Not that I have any unfulfilled desire to be in things like earthquakes, or tsunamis, or volcanic eruptions. My family phoned to make sure the house was still standing, and I have to say that I have not checked anything. I operate on the premise that I would notice if there were unusual things like bricks on the drive, or plaster littering the place. In the absence of such things, I am going to be an ostrich and assume that all is intact.
The failure to wake for earth quaking events could have something to do with levels of exhaustion though. That is something I could write a treatise on with ease. There are differences in tiredness, and healthy exhaustion is one thing, but bone-sapping weariness is another altogether. And lovely though our holiday was, it was not one of those relax and do nothing times. I don't actually do the "relax and do nothing" kind of holiday, now that I come to think about it. I do energetic things. Like walking miles. Climbing Alps. Staying up late to chat to my sister. I need to rethink the word "holiday"! Some adjustment might just be necessary. Maybe.