We sat down and my husband, who by this time had turned into my brother, was told to get up because it was his turn to get his hair cut.
However instead of going to a basin, as I had expected, he stepped fully clothed into a shower cubicle.
'Don't worry, I'll take care of him,' my ex-literary agent, Natasha, said.
She came back to me as one of her assistants. 'I'm afraid...I really don't know how to say this, I think it'll be best if I whisper it...' she said to Natasha who was once again by my side.
Natasha listened then turned to me. 'I'm afraid he's got bee-blah.'
'Bee-blah?' I said, 'What's that?'
She was just about to tell me when I woke up.
'I was having such a strange dream.' I said to Hodmandod Senior.
'So was I, ' he said. 'I dreamt that you had murdered your first husband with an axe.'
Which just goes to show how inaccurate these dreams can be. I have never picked up an axe in my life.