I can’t bear to get out of bed

By Ann Wroe

Humans may not hibernate, but it takes only the first intimations of winter, and the changing of the clocks, to make many wish that they did. This year in particular, with a hard 20 months behind us and storms, fires and inflation ahead, we deserve a season of rest. Here am I, for example, in the middle of the afternoon, dreaming of bed: white clouds of duvet, crisp linen sheets, piled up pillows and a mattress that is beautifully firm, though never hard. In this perfect, considerate embrace I will curl up like an ammonite and sleep the sleep of angels.