Noise pollution

OK, I admit it. I snore. And not in that gentle soothing kind of way, more in a loud intrusive way, like a rickety juggernaut bombing down a dirt track. It's in the genes: my dad snores for England, and when I stayed with my cousin in New Zealand the whole house shook. Luckily for me, Steven's managed to put up with it. But just as he'd started sleeping through it all, I go and get tonsilitis. Suddenly I'm snoring more like the demon in the Exorcist might after a hard day's head-spinning, spewing and cussing people's dead mothers. I know this not just because Steven alerted me to the fact, but because I actually heard myself as I woke up. Sorry, Steven. Normal pneumatic drill sounds will be resumed as soon as possible.