I had some funny dreams while I was away.
One night, I dreamt Gordon Ramsay cooked human flesh for me. And I ate it.
That same night, I'd parked my car at a station, right outside, and just left it there. When I went back on a snowy Christmas Eve about six weeks later expecting to probably have - at most - a parking ticket, it was pinned high up on a wall with a 12% sticker on it, up for sale - but not to me. I had to beg a kindly old lady, played perhaps by Anna Neagle or Marguerite Patten, to allow me to buy it back, but no amount of explaining or charm would change her mind. And we were having such a lovely Christmas too.
My most disturbing dream ever, by the way, is when I dreamt I was on a baking tray surrounded by root vegetables about to be put into the oven.
What does it all mean?
