My husband and I went to a Swiss sleep clinic – here’s what we learnt

He squeezed our hands and explained that ours was a common issue. “After doing this job for years, I can tell you that it’s usually the sleeping part that people in new marriages find difficult, not the sex part.”

Following a series of questions about our routine, our meals and our exercise habits, Serris – who is trained in Tibetan medicine – diagnosed our bed as being too small, our 8.30pm dinner as being too late and me as having too much wind (not in that way) and my husband too much heat. Put heat and wind together and, apparently, a bushfire can ignite.

At points it was hard not to laugh, but – vivid imagery aside – much of what he said felt true. Wind (again, no) is a bit like anxiety, but it can often be soothed before it turns gale force with a hug and a chat. Heat, by contrast, likes to be undisturbed.

We both had to give each other a bit of what we wanted, while respecting our own boundaries, and I was told that instead of dashing off to the sofa on a sleepless night, I needed to associate our bed with relaxation. “Take it easy,” said Serris. “In the olden days, people used to wake up in the middle of the night – it’s normal. Don’t get frustrated and worried, instead comfort yourself and say, ‘When it comes, it comes.’”

I found this surprisingly helpful. The world has shifted from admiring Margaret Thatcher types to fetishising sleep, and hearing a professional essentially say “it’s no big deal” relaxed me more than the CBD oil. Serris also prescribed me warm soup, ginger tea and yoga. For Christopher’s heat, no gluten, beer or sugar, which I found amusingly drastic. Serris pointed to the tinted glasses on his way out and explained that they were designed to block out blue light. “Tonight, you will wear these from 7pm.” We nodded dutifully.

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Our next appointment was with a young woman who guided us through yoga nidra. Taught as a part of yin yoga, it focuses on movements designed to create stillness in the body. We stretched and lay on our backs as she guided us through an imaginary valley that should take us to a place between sleep and wakefulness.

Christopher started snoring almost immediately. I can’t say this helped me visualise the fairy-tale valley, as I spent half the exercise wondering whether poking him would be frowned upon in a sleep suite. Afterwards, he was praised for truly entering into the spirit of things, and while I was definitely the failure student, I did find the breath work soothing.

Instead of leaving us to our own devices in the restaurant, dinner that night was in the room – a supposedly somniferous affair of lobster tartare with lime followed by a vegetable salad with seared beef and a pineapple carpaccio; all ingredients that are easy for the body to digest. Notably, the portions were smaller than usual and the food arrived at 7pm.

We cheated twice – we weren’t allowed alcohol, but persuaded the waiter to bring us a bottle of wine. We were also supposed to have the television removed, but that evening coincided with the England vs France quarter-final of the World Cup, so instead we watched the match in our Bono-like shades, which gave the room – and the players – a much-needed comforting orange hue.

Soon, it was time for the moment of truth. I turned on the FreshBed, which reacts to individual body temperature and heats each side of the bed separately, and said to my husband, “I’m worried I won’t sleep tonight.” Five minutes later, I was snoring and the next time I was conscious it was 8am. This is very unusual for me. The next day, a similar routine was repeated, and the following night I slept for eight hours again. By the time we got back to London, I felt more relaxed about sleep than I had in ages.

I’m not going to pretend that my issues have vanished and I’m sure the mountain air had something to do with it – but I did learn a few important lessons. Doing a calming yoga class after work has become part of my routine, as have the tinted shades, by Swanwick, which I now wear to read my book in bed.

The smart bed at the Alpina allowed us to share a mattress despite not sharing an inner thermostat, and while we can’t currently afford to buy a whole new model, we have swapped our double duvet for two separate singles – mine much thicker than his – and have found that we rarely wake up. “People don’t realise this, but being too hot or too cold is – after stress – the number one reason why we wake in the night,” explained Hester Noorman, the COO of FreshBed.

But, paradoxically – despite the serious Swiss approach – the most important lesson I learnt was to take it all a bit more lightly. On that first afternoon, Serris explained that instead of convoluted (and undeniably annoying) bedtime routines that remind you of your sleep issues, the best thing you can do is stay up until you feel tired, let your partner nod off without you, and tell yourself that one bad night isn’t the end of the world. Inevitably, as soon as I stop worrying, I conk out.

Has the night tyrant finally been exorcised? For both our sakes, I really hope so.

This article was first published in The Telegraph, London

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