Great news for nappers. According to clever people at the University of California, important work occurs in our brains when we’re asleep. I’m particularly pleased about this because there’s loads of work my brain should be doing at the moment, so if I can get some jobs ticked off while seemingly unaware, it’s a win-win. 

I’m a fan of an early night anyway. The ritual of bath, book, bit of telly, then bed can be more appealing than raucous night on the porn star martinis sometimes. I could happily snooze away an afternoon on a sun lounger, even if I wasn’t tired. It’s all to do with temperature for me. If I need to stay awake until the dizzying hour of eleven at night, the room would have to be the wrong side of chilly. Introduce a fleece blanket or blazing fire into the scenario and my chin’s on my chest by nine. 

One of my favourite sleeps is the one after the big night before. When the day has been spent re-carbing and re-hydrating, knowing the only cure is kip. It’s heaven to slip under the covers and enjoy the anticipation of waking up with a fully restored liver, fresh skin and balanced bowels. 

But needing to sleep when you can’t is hell, particularly when it involves influences outside of your control. In my mid-twenties, I co-hosted a Breakfast Show on a now defunct radio station called Atlantic 252, based in Ireland. I needed to be at work for 4am, which required a regular mid-afternoon nap to remain sane. Just adjacent to my tiny flat in the tiny Irish village was a tiny pub, where closing and opening times were not a thing and 24-hour reveling was – all of which could be heard through my single glazing. Bobbing round to ask a bunch of drunks to ‘keep it down a bit, lads’ was not an option, so after crying down the telephone to my mum, she suggested I bought some earplugs. 

What a reveIation. The following afternoon, I slipped them in just as the boozers began with another rendition of Whisky in The Jar - and couldn’t believe it. It got quieter and quieter as the foamy tubes swelled in my lobes and I heard nothing from the second verse onwards. Now, I am never without. I have a special box at the side of my bed which is stuffed to the brim with them and I never holiday plug-less. 

I believe they can even save relationships. In the baby years we took it in turns for night-time feeding. After my go, I’d reach for the special box and sleep sound for a few hours, knowing Sam was next on call. When the teenagers have sleepovers, I don’t need to turn into the witch mother from hell when everyone’s still talking at 3.30am. And instead of kicking my husband every time his snoring starts, I simply plug up and crack on with my nocturnal to-do list.