Irony.

Five in the morning and I'm woken by what sounds like a motor bike with a broken silencer. Wilf has rolled out of his bed in the dressing room and is now lying on his back, legs akimbo, snoring away to his hearts content. Not just any snore but a series of deep rumbles that reach a crescendo and then taper off in a gentle expiratory sigh. Intense, squirrel chasing, REM sleep.

Have you ever noticed how dogs and owners often seem to end up looking alike? Perhaps as the years roll past physical characteristics somehow become passed on and shared. I'm happily pointing this interesting fact of life out to 'the font' when a disembodied voice issues from that dark, private place under the duvet. " No need to worry. No one around here's shaggy or snores ". A moments pause and a final coda, " or needs constant attention ".

Boy, am I glad that Swedes aren't ironic .