>> were those for whom the same mutation
saw them require 12 hours each night and so
have to hit the hay as soon as they’re home
from work.
Most startling, though, researchers later
found that of every 100 people who claimed
to get by just fine on less than six hours, only
five carried the mutation and actually did.
Margaret Thatcher famously boasted of
getting just four hours a night. But mention
this to a sleep expert and many will point
out how regularly getting too little sleep
dramatically increases your risk of dementia,
a condition Thatcher would die with. Ken
Clarke has even said he noticed signs of it
when Thatcher was still in office. We should
perhaps all worry about Donald Trump’s
similar boast.
And we don’t all sleep at the same time. Ever
wondered why 40 per cent of the population
are larks, 30 per cent owls, with the remain-
ing 30 per cent somewhere in the middle?
Evolutionarily speaking, this makes sense: all
the better to have a group sleeping slightly
different shifts to minimise vulnerability
to predators. Yet our current office work
hours foist early starts upon everyone. This
creates problems.
It “punishes owls and favours larks”, writes
Walker in Why We Sleep, as by the time
owls reach their mental peak – in the late
afternoon – they’re told the work day is
over. Owls must “wake up with the larks but
[are] not able to fall asleep until far later in
the evening” and are often underslept as a
result. If you’re in this third of the popu-
lation, unlucky: you have a higher risk of
depression, anxiety, diabetes, cancer, heart
attacks and strokes. It’s a lark’s world: owls
just sleep in it.Here is a list of the various
devices, gadgets, lamps, apps,
earplugs, blankets, trackers and,
in one instance at least, creepy
sleep robots that I will invite
into my bedroom while writing this story.
I read using a SomniLight Amber Book
Lamp (“specifically designed to mimic the
amber wavelength of candlelight without
sacrificing the safety and convenience of
modern lighting”, £30). By my bed sits a
Philips Somneo Wake-Up Light, which mimics
the rise and fall of the sun (“with light-guided
breathing and personalised sun settings”,
£190). Splaying me to my mattress is a
Mela Comfort weighted blanket (swaddle,
baby, etc, from £125), while below me is a
Withings Sleep Tracking Mat (“offers sleep
cycle analysis, heart-rate tracking and snore
detection”, £100). I use a pillow from Nanu
that’s been created just for me based on
an algorithm (“designed by you, made bywas personal: “I run marathons. I’ve run the
Boston Marathon five times. My BMI is 20.
I’m a pretty healthy guy. And I was in the
category of getting five hours’ sleep for most
of my adult life.” The research shocked him.
“I run marathons and I eat salad and I’m going
to die of cardiovascular disease!”
I do not dare, however, speak to the cre-
ators of the Somnox Sleep Robot – coming
soon to all good stores and likely an episode
of Black Mirror.
The Sleep Robot is the shape of a kidney
bean, the size of a baby, is covered in fabric
and makes a motion like it’s breathing. It
comes with a blank birth certificate in the
box. They want you to name it (“It took us
nine months to create your new sleep com-
panion, just like...”).
You’re supposed to spoon it: the idea is
your breathing syncs and therefore slows.
On the second night I dreamt it was trying to
smother me, like a facehugger from Alien. It
wasn’t for me.
As for the trackers – notably the ultra-
advanced Oura Ring, favourite trinket of tech
bros everywhere – they were equal parts fas-
cinating and pointless. With the Oura Ring I
could see everything on the accompanying
app: how much REM I got the night before,
how much light and deep sleep, how my sleep
undulated between each state. I could see
what my resting heart rate was, my body tem-
perature, my respiratory rate. Everything, that
is, except how to make use of it all.
I meet the Oura Ring’s cofounder, Petteri
Lahtela, in a Central London coffee shop
while he is over from Finland for business. A
few months earlier, the ring had received an
unexpected PR boost when Prince Harry was
snapped wearing one. Cue an avalanche of
press – “Prince Harry’s Ring Sparks Interest In
New Sleep Tracker” (NBC News), “Prince Harry
Is Leading The Way In Tech’s Hot New Trend”
(Evening Standard), “Why Harry’s New Ring
Has An Oura Of Desperation About It” (the
Guardian) – and a tenfold increase in sales.
Lahtela is reluctant to talk about any royal
wearers, but a source tells me it was no passing
fad: the prince had previously used the older,
larger version of the Oura Ring, but only at
night, so no one knew.
Focusing just on sleep, says Lahtela, misses
the point. “The big driver was working on
recovery. Sleep is the main thing for that. But
you can do some things during the day as well
that contribute.”
Plus, worn enough, he says, the Oura Ring
not only tells you your ideal bedtime, but can
also predict diseases and disorders coming
your way. Wouldn’t you rather know?
And yet, knowing has now become its
own problem. Nearly every sleep expert
I spoke to told me one of the biggest issuesNanu”, £30). I wear Tom Brady TB12 Under
Armour Athlete Recovery pyjamas (“the
key is the ‘far infrared’ print inside... Far
infrared is a type of energy that benefits
the human body”, from £42). In my ears
are Bose Noise-Masking Sleepbuds (“sleep
better. Cover unwanted noise with sooth-
ing sounds”, £230). On my finger sits an
Oura Ring sleep tracker, sampling my pulse
250 times per second (“you learn your
optimal times to move, eat and take a break
to get that restorative sleep”, £280). Every
night an app called Sleepzy attempts to nag
me to bed at 10.45pm. I use the Somnox Sleep
Robot exactly twice (“by using breathing
regulation, sounds and affection, the Sleep
Robot offers...”, £549).
As a rule of thumb, the more high-tech
something was, the less useful I found it. Did
I like the way the weighted blanket pinned
me down and actually, weirdly, calmed me
while doing so? I did. Do I slightly suspect
it’s because my brain thought I was trapped‘[Netflix]armoured upto go to battlewith sleep.It’s adisgrace’somewhere – under a collapsed building, say- and it was actually the calm serenity you
get just before death? I do.
I woke better when the Somneo light woke
me. I slept quicker when using the amber
book lamp to read. The pillow was comfy. I
can offer no opinion on the pyjamas other
than the fact they are pyjamas.
I didn’t entirely understand the Bose
Sleepbuds (have you always wanted to go to
sleep to spa music only you can hear? These
are the £230 buds for you!), but I suspect
that’s because I live on a quiet road. I was
willing to learn, however, so I asked Brian
Mulcahey, category director of sleep at Bose,
why the audio firm felt the need to get into
the business of sleep. Most simply, he says,
it realised it was becoming a “mega trend” –
something investment company BlackRock
helpfully defines as “powerful, transformative
forces that could change the global economy,
business and society. Think electricity, auto-
mobiles, the internet.” But also, he says, it
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