Elise was groggy, hungover. Long mahogany hair matted revealing droopy, bagged eyes and sallow skin. Besides her, her husband Brian snored with his back turned. She was awoken by the farm’s cockerel singing the morning alarm call. For a second her eyelids dropped.

Peeling them open she felt overcome with fatigue, but she was no longer in bed, but in the village tavern surrounded by friends, collapsed on a seat. Brian was beside her.

‘I’m not here,’ she managed to stutter. ‘I’m at home!’ Brian shook his head in disbelief. Her eyes flickered and once more she lay in bed.