Some people get by on five. I like a nice, long nine or 10 to really enjoy it. Einstein's measured 11! I'm talking, obviously, about the number of hours of sleep people need. A study of 10,000 people by the University of Edinburgh and Ludwig Maximilians University in Munich has shown that sleep-length is hereditary and that one in five people genuinely do need a lie-in and find it hard to get to work on time in the morning, or to function optimally when they have arrived.

I'm down with that; that is exactly how I roll. I love it when scientific studies corroborate my existing self-justifications. According to the study, I ain't lazy, I'm just blindly – horizontally – playing out my genetic destiny. I spend the major part of my life in bed. Alone. Uncarnal. I chew over current events without doing anything about them. I stew in my own juices, wearing a full flannel tracksuit, vest, zip-up top, legwarmers, socks and sometimes a hat and gloves too, with a duvet, a folded-over double blanket on top and an electric underblanket too. Hey, it's natural. It's hereditary. It's practically Buddhism.

I do think a lot of mental processing happens during sleep, although I sometimes have comically obvious anxiety dreams. I dream that I am literally treading water or carrying baggage around with me. During a challenging career patch, I dreamed I was performing in a musical and didn't know the words. The musical was an adaptation of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles series. I know! Not even Flashdance, Mamma Mia!, Wicked or Legally Blonde. My dreamtime fantasy musical theatre career is so not thriving. How can I turn it around? Give me nine hours and an orthopaedic mattress and I'm sure I'll be able to figure it out.