Is there any greater joy than waking up, realising it’s a Saturday and then rolling over for another couple of hours of sleep? And with a bank holiday weekend ahead, we get three whole mornings of delicious lie-ins to enjoy.
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I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’