In 1991, I would often stay up very late doing who knows what, go to school (I was 16), walk around all day like a sleep-deprived zombie, come home, fall asleep on my parents' sofa with the TV on until they got home, and then repeat the process. One day in Janaury, I distinctly remember waking up from my afternoon to the sound of anti-aircraft fire. On the TV, I mean. That was the night the first Gulf War began. Bernie Shaw hiding under the desk and all that. I don't know why I feel compelled to share that. But I do know that was around the time my chronic insomnia began.