5:10am - sound of whimpering by the side of the bed wakes me up.
tell dog to go back to her basket.
5:11am - get out of bed,
put dog back into her basket in hallway,
get back into bed.
5:13am - sound of whimpering by the side of the bed.
5:14am - get out of bed,
put dog back into her basket in hallway,
get back into bed.
5:20am - dog launches herself on to bed, landing precisely on my kidneys.
5:22am - dog fast asleep - underneath blanket.
have sneaking suspicion Cesar would not approve of this.
5:46am - still awake.
get up to retrieve extra blanket from airing cupboard.
walk past thermometer thingy in hallway and realise it is -8c outside.
feel bad for having made dog sleep on floor.
5:48am - return to bedroom to find dog sprawled out on pillows.
5:49am - put dog back into her basket in the hallway.
5:57am - hardly feel bad about it at all.
6:06am - tell dog she can sleep on bed, as long as she keeps my feet warm and doesn't expect to go for a walk at 8am.
8:02am - sound of whimpering by the side of the bed wakes me up.
I can't watch the new Countdown. It's not because of the appalling way they treated Carol Vorderman. Or even because Rachel Riley is younger/prettier/gets paid more than me. No, it's because Jeff Stelling talks with his eyes shut.
