Finding it difficult dropping off? It’s not your fault – blame your chronotype

How Do You Sleep? John Lennon once scathingly asked Paul McCartney in song after the acrimonious break-up of the Fab

Four.

The answer, in my case, is, a lot. I love my bed, and getting me out of it in these days of lockdown and lack of incentive is like getting the proverbial whelk out of its shell. But this may not be my fault, an excuse I leap on with a glad cry of: “It wisnae me!”

It’s down to my chronotype. This, it would appear, is all to do with “differences in activity and alertness in the morning and evening.”

Now, you wouldn’t think it would take Einstein to work out that some people are better at stuff in the morning and others are better at other stuff in the evening.

It stands to reason, if you are any kind of observer of the human condition. But according to new reports, one of the major problems of modern life (after getting Covid, losing your job and realising you’ve voted for the wrong person) is lack of kip.

Not, as you will already have jaloused, a problem with which I regularly find myself faced. But that’s because I’m a wolf. I did the quiz. On the cusp of being a bear but a wolf, all the same. Enough of your larks, owls and all that avian jazz. The four main chronotypes referring to sleep habits are dolphins, lions, bears and wolves, though not necessarily in that order. T he Significant Other, on the other hand, is quite definitely a dolphin, going on lion ie possessing the attention span of a well, dolphin; diving into work first thing then going to bed as soon as possible, with one eye open for predators.

So it’s interesting that the major characteristics of the wolf (ie me) are to get up late, then “drink more, eat high-fat foods after dark and have more sex”. Ah, well, in a never-the-twain sort of way, we’re obviously well suited. And two out of three, as a certain Mr M Loaf once warbled, ain’t bad…

Feline character

Grudge. What a great name for a cat. An inspired name for a cat, in fact, as no recognisable life form in this galaxy or any other can hold a grudge like a cat can.

I’ve never been a great sci-fi hand but I am drawn inexorably to the latest in the Star Trek TV franchise – Star Trek Discovery – mainly because its break- out cast member, after only an episode or two, is a cat called Grudge. Grudge is a Maine Coon, a breed known for its size and easy-going temperament but, being part of the crew of a 32 nd Century spacecraft ( and the companion of a cool character nicknamed

Book), a law unto itself. And currently, a bigger audience draw than its human costars which will very likely make for interesting salary negotiations. Though my money’s on the cat.

Grudge, played by twin male felines, is even at the forefront of our current debate re gender stereotyping and fluidity because Grudge is nominally a female – “a queen”, according to its c a r e t a k e r, the aforementioned Book; and “she’s all mine”, he says confidently.

Well, I wouldn’t book on that, young sir. Even in the 32nd Century, humans still haven’t worked out their place in the pecking order – or more properly, the purring order. The cats on set may be “onetake wonders” with an uncanny ability to hit the right mark and remember their lines (or stripes) but contemptible humans would do well to remember that cats never waste time on anything irrelevant to their own requirements. If these happen to coincide with yours, you are fortunate indeed. If not, be afraid, be very afraid.

Cats in space are nothing new, of course, along with all kinds of other furries designed to leaven the nightmare of the not-too-distant future. No wonder there is currently the kind of queue for acquiring domestic pets previously only seen in the food lines of Soviet Russia. Or outside the British foodbanks of today, lest we assume that civilisation has moved on in any meaningful way.

Star Trek had Data the Android’s cat, Spot, actually a stripey ginger creature but there you go. Logic stopped with Mr Spock, obviously. Then there were the Tribbles, little balls of fluff that caused no end of bother around the final frontier. Star Wars too, of course, can boast the largest, woolliest cast member of all in the form of Chewbacca, the ever-moaning Wookie, plus the infamously annoying Ewoks.

But that is not the point. These are figments. Arguments are already raging over the ether about whether Grudge is a shapeshifter, an alien life form, a timetraveller, telepathic, holographic or a

coalescent organism. No, either.

Suffice to say, cats are real. Nobody (unless you wish to enter into philosophical arguments about intelligent design and supreme beings) could invent them. They walk among us. Or, more accurately, allow us to walk among them, usually bearing a grudge. Resistance, as they say, is futile…

I don’t know

According to reports, one of the major problems of modern life is lack of kip

BIG SLEEP: If, like John and Yoko, you spend a lot of time in bed, it could be that your chronotype is the same as Helen’s – a wolf.