It’s 2.43 a.m. Unable to sleep, you reach out into the night for company: literally. Out goes your arm, towards the radio on the bedside table, and you grope for the ‘on’ button. You bring the radio close to you: a hard, cold, rectangular cuddly toy with an aerial instead of ears, and you turn the volume down as low as you can so that it won’t wake your sleeping companion, if you have one.
Disagree with half of it, enjoy reading all of it
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