SOS or more appropriately SUD.

Right last nights sleep started off bloody amazing, just polished of an unexpectedly good Christopher Brookmeyer book and had some pleasant tunes sending me into the nod.

"Shiiiiiittt what the hell was that!"

Coming shooting out of a not so pleaseant dream (something involving vegtables) to find the boat rocking and the rain trying to penetrate the hull be sheer force of effort.

"Some bastard is outside!"

I know the late night noises and expected motions of my boat, the particular swell is caused by somebody wandering round the pontoon just outside my head. Straining to hear whether the footsteps are heading towards me or away from me, this is the point that something sets my swing bin swinging. I about near shat myself, then the pump kicks in and I have definitely had enough because that bastard had just triggered a minute ago to represurrise the system and wasn't due for another 14.

"Fuck this for a game of soldiers"

Grab the spare duvet, all the pillows I can muster and set up defense base alpha under the covers. It was at this point that I was going to send out an SOS or SUD (Shitting it Under the Duvet) to all you buggers out there to warn you of my plight.

Rain eases off, boat regains equilibrium and I tentatively check to see if it really was broon troot time. As my herat beat drops I decide against the SUD and that I should go an investigate. Now winding people up about ghost sea captains when they stay on the boat doesn't seem nearly as fun. If this was a movie the moment I give up the shelter of the nest, that is when the monster/ alien/ ghost/ criminal/ pirate will strike, but it had to be done.

So in one sweeping motion I roll off the bed, into defensive crouch position in front the bed, slap the light on and prepare myself for the worst. Sweet F A confronted me. Close inspection found that the swell had upset my goggles and dropped them in the bin. The water tanks were near empty so movement of what little water remained triggered the pump. Very logical and mundane, but at 4am thinking logically often gets relegated to the hind brain and the front brain runs amock.

Tonight I batten down the hatches, secure all entry points, wear a earplugs (that for some reason I always take to Burning Man but never use) and flip the bird to any supernatural entities that plan on distrubing my sleep.