‘What do I think?’ I wait for it, should be only a few seconds more and … there it is. The alarm’s turned off, like it was never there. I sometimes get scared that one day it won’t work any more. So far that day hasn’t come. I hope and pray it never does. I think back to the two episodes where I lost time. It’s because I hadn’t been keeping my cannabinoid levels up, I need to be careful. I find my head tipping onto the back of the sofa and I stare at the ceiling as I submit to the Night Queen’s rule. A huge breath swells in my chest then escapes into the room.

‘I think it’s fucking awesome.’

With the alarm shut off muscles in my body start releasing their tension, and they melt away over the next few minutes whilst Joel fixes some food and I just lie here, absorbing the music Joel has put on his vintage hi-fi system, all silver fronts with twisty dials and polished hardwood cases. The track’s one I recognize, ‘Lost Dog’. Which makes me think of Kush. My mind starts singing along, substituting ‘lost’ with ‘burnt’. For a moment I panic I’ll not be able to make it stop, but then my brain shifts and it’s gone.

By the time Joel brings over a white platter with what looks like a huge amount of cheese, all different types, I’m calming down. And even getting a bit hungry. The platter has four indents which are each filled with a different style of mustard, ranging from light yellow to mahogany brown. Cocktail sticks abound. The only thing missing is miniature flags on each one.

‘Good stuff,’ he says, clearing some space on the table and placing the platter down close enough for me to do hand-to-mouth without any extraneous movement. ‘But she’s a hungry tyrant; we’re definitely gonna need all this.’

‘Long live the Night Queen,’ I say. I skewer a bit of cheese, dab it in the darkest of the mustards, and hold it up in the air. Joel does the same. ‘May she reign forever and ever.’