When I am in bed, before my mind goes haywire and leads me into the perverse antechamber of sleep, I try and organise my thoughts. I read something the other day in one of those advice pieces that the internet is forever foisting on us that before you go to sleep you should assemble a to-do list for the next day. I do not do this. I think about money. On holiday I used to get all the bank notes out of my wallet and count them. I am a kind of Fagin, I suppose. Though I am not really taking any lascivious pleasure form these bank notes or from the figure I imagine in my current account when I am in my bed at night. It is more that I am creating a kind of relaxation by seeing that I am sufficiently well provided for for the next day at least. It was probably what was on Fagin’s mind too. This might put me into a state where I might be able to doze off, for I am not an easy dozer and need everything to be just right. The other thing I might do is think about the calender; how many days to my next pay cheque. As you see, another money matter. However, this is a less relaxing daydream, as I grow irritated at myself for wanting time to pass quickly to get me to that pay-cheque day. What am I doing? I think to myself. Just wishing my life away, because what happens at the end of all the pay days? You are just one month closer to the final due date, when the final pound of flesh has to be delivered (that would be Shylock) .

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