The good thing about oversleeping is that you learn from your mistakes and it never happens again. In theory. After yesterday's debacle, I assured Lisa that I have no plans to change my 8:30am start time at the hospital, and unless I provide her with written instructions to the contrary, countersigned by God himself, then under no circumstances is she to allow me to sleep past 7am.

So imagine my surprise when I slowly came to this morning, groggily opened my eyes, and saw Lisa applying her make-up. I thought "Hmmm... that's odd. I'm usually up and about by the time she does that." So I looked at the clock. It was ten past seven. I enquired (calmly, of course) (although it's hard to remain calm while you're flinging the duvet across the room and fending off a panic attack) why she hadn't woken me up, and she replied:

"I'm meant to wake you at quarter past, aren't I..?

[Two-second pause]

Oh no!"

Either she's trying to take over from Jeremy Beadle, or the baby's affecting her mind. I think I'll put the clocks forward fifteen minutes tonight.