This is how I came to be watching Don't Tell The Bride at 3am. Good grief, what a strange world we live in where we can make a programme about a hapless man organising a wedding in secret from his betrothed. Will she hate it? Will he stick to the budget? Do we care? It was awful and yet awesome. It did the trick, though, and I was able to nod off when I went back to bed.
When my eyes reluctantly opened this morning, it took me a while to realise that the numbers displayed on my clock-radio were not the Radio 4 frequency, 94.5 FM, but the time: quarter to ten. Now I'm spending the whole day playing catch-up. Double busy, again.