As I was talking to the night sister I was half aware that the carpet seemed to be moving

Dr Colin Thomas

Picture the scene. I quite often collapsed on the bed in my full garb, including white coat with stethoscope sticking out of the pocket, only to be woken up hours later by a pain, normally my bleep going off.

One particular summer night at about 0300 I was woken in such a way.

I didn't turn on my bedside light as the corridor light shone through and gave enough light to see.

However, as I was talking to the night sister I was half aware that the carpet seemed to be moving.

Stealing a march

My first assumption was that this was a visual trick brought on by lack of sleep, but when I'd finished the call I saw that the reason my carpet shimmered was due to thousands of ants marching across the floor.

They were heading from a crack in the window frame to the kitchen, to devour a pot of honey that had been left open by one of my less than tidy flat mates.

Part of keeping me sane during these times, but not, I point out, other members of my mess was playing my electric guitar.

There's nothing more satisfying than the three opening chords E, A, and B from Smoke on the Water.

Mobile plectrum

One day after a long slog in theatres I picked up my guitar and looked around the room for my black plectrum.

Quite often I'd mislay it somewhere, and I spotted it just on the floor in front of my bed, or so I thought.

I picked it up, but was taken aback when, as I clasped it in my fingers it felt fatter than usual, and then even more odd as it seemed to have developed tickly legs.

Aargh! I had picked up a cockroach instead of my trusty plectrum!

In shock I dropped it to the ground and proceeded to put the full weight of my foot on it.

I heard a loud crack and assumed that was that, but it wasn't, and it just picked itself up and scurried to the skirting board never to be seen again.

If I'd have known how strong they were I could have saved a fortune on plectrums.