My Beloved Tells Me A Platypus Attacked Him As He Slept.. Very Sore Apparently

Jan 6 2008 Alison Craig

Nightmares for Dave, sleepwalks for Louise.. too much Dr Who and cheese if you ask me

MONDAY

Hogmanay! Memories of standing on roofs in Princes Street as the celebrations blow away around us. It's great to watch someone else from the warmth of a couch.

For the first time since I was about five, this year we have a quiet one. We have to pick someone up from Edinburgh Royal Infirmary at 9pm so not a drop touches my lips.

Having spent so many Hogmanays in full party mode it is amazing to see business as usual at the hospital and the ERI nursing staff were a collective ray of sunshine - so I toast them and wish them and you a Happy New Year. Watch the fireworks from the window of the flat then fall into an exhausted slumber - 2008 is going to be great.

TUESDAY

New Year's Day is traditionally full of low lights, whispering and regret of bad behaviour. I, of course, am fresh, cleansed and completely unhungover - whoopee!

Desperate to hear how everyone else got on last night but leave it until 1pm and phone Dynamite - which is a bad idea - she is still in bed having just got into it at 7am. She also sounds like a man so I say I will call back in a few days once she is awake and upright.

I have voiced a new 13-part series for STV on Thursday nights at 7.30pm called Conquer The Castle and it is a hoot. It's about six urban dwellers (one Scotsman) who are thrown into the wilds of Perthshire in Land Rovers and set a series of challenges. There really are some classic moments. Keep your eyes peeled for Kimberley - that's all I'm saying.

WEDNESDAY

As Dave begins to stir this morning, his eyes open and he turns towards me and mumbles, 'I have just been attacked by a platypus - God it was sore'. Naturally, I burst out laughing as he goes into full horrific detail of his nightmare.

I think the rich food and gargling with booze is starting to show. Last night mum dreamt she was attacked by giant mosquitos. When she woke she was scratching like a mad thing, still not convinced they weren't in her bed. The third strange incident in the night was waking at 3am to find Louis standing at the foot of our bed saying in a very serious, calm voice, 'You know what you must do'. My first reaction was to rub my eyes to see if I was dreaming but by now Dave - not yet eaten by the platypus - was also awake as Louis repeated 'You know what you must do' before turning in robotic fashion and walking back to his bed and straight to sleep - too much Dr Who and cheese if you ask me.

THURSDAY

Dynamite emerges from her bed. It seems she had a major pub crawl on Hogmanay, ending up in The Bailie. Her resolution is to quit the evil weed so if you see her lurking outside with a fag this is your direct permission to wheech it from her and stamp it to the ground. Her man Dave also joins the pledge for the fags and will do as he is told this week.

After last week's debacle with washing powder in the dishwasher, this week he washed the kitchen floor with fairy liquid, which streaked and bubbled everywhere. To make up for it, he offers to buy Yorkshire puds to go with the meat Dynamite is burning. Off he goes as Dynamite begins to feel forgiveness in her heart.

Two-and-a-half hours later he has not returned, having met his pal Alistair who dragged him (screaming, apparently) into Clarks Bar. Jury's out on that one.

FRIDAY

A load of us get together for a curry at our pals Mike and Mag's house. Their kids got a Wii for Christmas though I am not sure they have been able to get near it for their parents and their friends. By 10pm all the grown men have disappeared. We find them in the room with the kids and the Wii - all playing golf and carrying on as if it was the PGA. We leave them to it.

An hour later we go back to find Dynamite's Dave now boxing on the Wii - he is beaten by Si Si, our hosts' eight-year-old daughter. This in itself would be funny enough but add to it the fact that in real life Dave is a 3rd Dan, black belt in judo and you can imagine the mickeytaking by the rest of us. As they say, the gloves were off.

SATURDAY

In Sugar Mountain - a delicious sweet shop in North Berwick - I overhear a man complaining yet again he wasn't asked to be in the nativity because he is not wise enough to be a wise man. The girls behind the counter laugh as he turns and says: "I read your column every week - you're an awfy one!" Well, Ken Sinclair, so are you! Wise men indeed. I leave with a bag of soor plums, rock and a big smile.

A final word from Bill Findlay, who corresponds regularly with me through the column with tips for staying trim in the new year - push yourself repeatedly back from the table but only after you have eaten your fill at least twice. Thanks Bill, my mantra for the year ahead.