Sleep and I have never been the best of friends. As far down the labyrinths of memories that I can navigate I find that I have always been an early sleeper, prone to be awakened by the lightest of commotions. Perhaps it is me clutching at omens – seeking to find solace in unrelated events – but days when I have awakened early with full control of my senses something momentous has happened.

The morning before I face the latest interview panel, I wake up at 2am. It is one of those nights when sleep seems to depart early, and all I have left to do is count sheep, twist and turn, and hope that dawn brings respite from the feeling of general malaise. As a consequence, I am not exactly in the best of moods when the interview starts. The interviewer also does a great job of getting under my skin, and I field a few gaffes. I can sense control slipping from my hands on this occasion. The back story is that I don’t think I like the role on offer, nor the people who I would report to directly. I’m just not feeling it…