Falling asleep during the day when you are not a baby, an older person or very ill is basically a sin. This iron rule has been one of the central tenets of my life. The 11th commandment, if you will.

Napping is for some reason yoked inextricably in my mind to the phrase “moral turpitude” — which I found, aged 15, in one of the Victorian tomes I carried round in delusional certainty that they made me look clever and, therefore, alluring to boys (as if the two were linked).

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