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Picture the scene. The alarm goes off at 6am. You have been lying there since 5:05am with your anxiety gremlin sitting on your chest, interrogating you about how on earth you think you are getting to get through the day/week/month. In between interrogations, the gremlin is also reminding you of all the embarrassing things you said at dinner last night/in that meeting in 2014/at Chris Barnes’* party when you were 15. So, when the alarm actually does go off, you are not exactly tumbling out of bed and pouring yourself a cup of ambition. More like crawling out of bed, hooking yourself up to an IV caffeine drip and praying that everything gets cancelled or that you get hit by a bus – whichever happens first. Is this any way to live? But this was me. And some of you might be reading this and saying ‘5??? That’s a lie-in! If only I could sleep until 5!’ so I have to add, competitively, that I was also awake at 11, 1 and 3. Where’s my medal?
I am sleeping better than I have in years. I am positively bedevilled with sleep. So now if you meet me, I may dazzle you with my Rest is Politics podcast repartee and in-depth knowledge of the Netflix back catalogue. I may no longer be hiding in the loo, at a dinner, wondering if it’s too early to leave. At last, sleep. The nutritious kind. Not the desperately light and restless kind. And, it, turns out, sleep is everything.
*not his real name. As if I could remember his real name. I can hardly remember mine.