Somewhere in between being a proper child (a small person covered in jam) and a grownup, things are lost: naivety, carelessness and, dare I say it, a sense of unbridled optimism. That’s life, and we all have to accept it. But there is one thing I cannot accept: the disappearance of nap time.

I’m not sure at what age naps stopped being the norm. It was definitely fine during my teens, maybe even my early 20s, and then suddenly it wasn’t.

I remember the moment I realised society would not let me live to my fullest, most well-rested capacity. I’d told a former employer that, on my lunch break, rather than looking at other people’s fantasies on iPlayer, I had my own. The original and best piece of television: dreams. Trippy, hallucinatory dreams. (You really can’t beat ’em, and many arthouse film directors have tried.)

I would have a good, solid 30 minutes of visions before scoffing a sandwich and returning to the office, but the expression on everyone’s faces made me think twice about mentioning it again. “You had a nap?” they said, aghast and in a tone not far from “You did what?” or “How much?”

Soon my commitment to sleep became part of office folklore. People would joke about it on emails, and in the secret Santa one year someone gave me an eye mask. It was friendly, sure, but with a hint of subtext – a jibe at my laziness. I didn’t care, though, I was operating on a higher plane of peace, the very personification of the sound of panpipes. And do you know why? Because I had a nap.

I have a theory that 90% of daily passive-aggressiveness is because someone needs a nap. Jobsworth in the office? He needs a snooze. Snarky relative? Get her a pillow.

So no matter what The Man says, I will never give up my daytime doze. Not least because I’ve finally figured out how to sleep sitting up. It only works if I have a window seat (or seat by a wall) but as long as I can use my scrunched up scarf as a pillow, I just bosh a pair of sunglasses on (to baffle any nearby staff for long enough to catch some z’s) and I’m off to never-never land. Especially if I have the secret ingredient: posh people.

Nothing makes me sleepier than a posh person on a podcast talking about something old. I see a podcast called Secrets Of The Ancient Mayans with Sir Gentry Moneyswallop and rub my hands gleefully, thinking, “Hell, yes, I’m going to sleep tonight.” I feel my stomach flutter when I’m browsing online and stumble on a delicious seven-part series on a single ancient vase. A whole week of shut-eye! I am truly blessed.