Ilyas picks half past six, because that is when he has to be up on a working day anyway.

The first Saturday is miserable. He has had a bad Friday night, the alarm goes at half past six, and every part of him wants the extra two hours. He gets up, makes tea, and stands in the back garden in the cold for ten minutes because the article said daylight.

He is tired all Saturday and he does not enjoy it. On Saturday night he is asleep by eleven, which has not happened in about a year.

By the third week the Sunday night dread has gone, because Sunday is no longer a different day from the rest of them. His nights are not perfect. They are about an hour less broken, and he stopped doing the arithmetic somewhere in the second week without noticing.