Of all the national days that are attached to the calendar, none is, I’m sure, more popular than the one celebrated this coming Sunday.

Known to the rest of us as ‘the day clocks go back,’ it appears to have been re-named ‘National Sleep-In Day’, marking the day we get to spend an extra hour under the duvet.

The day also heralds the start of what has been dubbed ‘Sleep Season’, when adults are five times more likely to spend a longer time in bed than they do during the summer months.

That’s perfectly understandable. On cold, dark mornings, who in their right mind would want to step out of a nice warm bed into a cold, grey world?

Me, that’s who. I’ve become a little worried about my sleep patterns. I used to be able to lie in for England. I had no trouble slumbering, and getting up before 11am was an effort.

In the past couple of years, however, I’ve woken up early and felt an urge to get out of bed and throw myself into the day – even in winter.

So strong is this urge that I am thinking about getting a milk round to give me something to do while everyone else is asleep.

I think its all down to growing old. After all, pensioners all known for being early risers. They no longer work and can lie in to their heart’s content, yet they’re up, dressed and at the paper shop before the first tweet of the dawn chorus.

Disturbingly, I feel the need to get up even if I’ve had a bad night’s sleep, and with our 300-year-old mattress that’s not difficult. It’s got more lumps than school mashed potato (although Jamie Oliver has probably replaced that with a creamy, herb-infused dish).

Add to this my husband, who shifts his sleeping position every three minutes, and you have a recipe for a massively disturbed night. Research has shown that when one partner moves in their sleep, the other follows suit. If this is true I must get so much exercise overnight I could easily get away with lying on the sofa all day eating burgers. Which is, of course, the life to which I aspire.

I am genuinely intrigued by the change in my body clock. Not only has it affected my mornings, but nights too. No longer can I climb into bed and go to sleep. Now I can’t relax without a little ritual – involving a cup of tea and a copy of Gardeners’ World – before I nod off.

As I’ll be up before everyone else on Sunday I’ll make myself useful and creep around the house turning all the clocks back.