A puzzling night of unusually incomprehensible dreams. Anyone eavesdropping on my bedroom last night (by bouncing a laser off the window, say) would have heard me wake up at regular intervals, roll over, mutter ‘What the !@$% was that all about?’, and go back to sleep.

Today I will get my own back by puzzling someone else, since at lunchtime I plan to go into town and ask Robert Sayle nicely to explain to me how a clock which sets itself from radio signals can possibly manage to be consistently four hours slow. And hopefully get them to give me one which isn't…