From Wednesday to Friday I go to work early in the morning. I am at the bus station at Market Place in Reading at six-thirty to catch a bus to the university. An old guy is always there ahead of me, smoking away. A while ago we started talking. This morning I learned that he was a night-watchman. “Security,” he said and pointed west, “Prudential.” I asked him whether he was missing sleep. “Nah,” he said and waved his hand, “I sleep only a couple of hours during the day.” He gets a bad backache if he sleeps longer, he explained. “It’s ridiculous,” he added his favorite phrase. I was curious: “Do others in your trade need little sleep, as well?” He nodded. Many people he knew could not sleep more than an hour or two a day. “Even on weekends, when I do not work, I spend the night reading newspapers, doing crosswords, watching the telly,” he said. “It’s ridiculous,” he added after a puff at his cigarette. I always knew security was good for something.