Pushing the door open slowly, in case anyone unsavoury had violated one’s inner sanctum, one found Crotchet rubbing the sides of his face against the side of the television in the corner. He was purring furiously and his tail was quivering as he conducted his rubbing ritual.
“Crotchet dear!” One shouted, “What on earth are you doing? Stop that at once!”
He immediately, jumped down from the table but weaved and turned frantically below it.
“What’s the matter, dear? Tell mummy.”
He sat and fixed his gaze upon the screen, which was showing some piece of Sunday nonsense. Well it couldn’t be that; the few minutes one saw were as absorbing as one of the vicar’s sermons. Picking up the remote one remembered the wonders of Sky+ and rewound the channel. It was then that all became clear.
The queen of North East evening news (and one suspects national news also … but you can’t have her), Her Serene Highness Carol Malia, is returning to our screens after her time off to give birth to her delicious baby daughter, Anna Margaret. One squealed with joy and lifting Crotchet into one’s arms. We danced around the breakfast table in celebration.

As a distant fairy godmother, one has arranged for the Doctor Christian Room to be cleaned thoroughly, then sealed until tomorrow evening. A bottle of Pere Ventura is being chilled and Chef has promised a delicious selection of nibbles so Chu Me and I can savour every minute of her return.