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nnyHe’d given up and started taking sleeping pills in the day time, exhausted with the constant tugs just at the edge of his consciousness, like a song you almost recognise but can’t quite place. It was a restless sleep, half-buried under a pile of silk pillows and curly-toed slippers, but it was unarguably a much better existence at night. Just Billy’s half-formed wishes for books, Klubbo’s wistful yearning that they’d reattach his legs. Bugger the prestige, the décor, the whimsical names. ‘BÖJA’. Hah. No ‘new lamps for old’ would tempt him again – it was hell being a genie in Ikea.
