I couldn’t sleep last night. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, to be fair. On average I probably manage about four hours’ sleep a night, a sad statistic that can lead to awkward conversations. Whenever I reveal my nighttime snooze patterns, the first thing most people say is, “Oh! You’re like Margaret Thatcher!” Yes. I’m just like Margaret Thatcher. Apart from all of my political beliefs and the fact that my sleep pattern didn’t lead to the privatisation of national industries.
PHOTO STEVE ULLATHORNE
This isn’t a new state of affairs; insomnia has been a constant in my life from a very young age. Most of my childhood was spent lying in my bunk bed, wrapped in my Strawberry Shortcake duvet cover, staring longingly at my George Michael poster. Of course, being an insomniac in 2015 is far more palatable than it was 30 years ago. Last night I listened to a few podcasts to keep me company in the wee small hours. In the days before technology all I could do was sit and wait for dawn to come, occasionally flicking through teletext for company.