Day 2: An Ode to Seabiscuit

I battle to sleep. I’ve struggled since I was ten. Not festive. My attempt last night involved a muscle relaxant of my brother’s. One little pill dissolved under the tongue – no harm in that, I figured.

This morning I overslept my alarm. By two. Hours. Why? “That’s not a muscle relaxant. That’s a tranquiliser.”

A tranquiliser. The things they give horses. And, if I am battling after my little pill, I now have a newfound respect for the Seabiscuits of the world. You race. Hit the tranquilisers. Nap in the horse trailer en route to your next gig. Race again. No biggie.

I, on the other hand, type, hit the tranquilisers, power nap in the loos, and then return to squiggle the next D&AD award winner on a layout pad. (It's called "faith," people)

The star of the hour. Or post. Unless it takes you an hour to read this. Then both apply.

So, Seabiscuit, as the founding father of the horseracing fraternity (no, there were NO horses before Seabiscuit!), this post goes out to you. I hope that one day I too have your stamina and zest for the work you got up for every day. For now I endeavor to simply stay awake while I brainstorm here:

My hip and cool designer. Yes, he's mine. I keep him in my cupboard.

#ifIhashtagseabiscuitdoIgettomeettobeymaguire?