I spent last night in bed, cuddled up with Kirstie and Phil. If you don’t know who I’m talking about, you might as well sign off now. And don’t bother coming back!!

Kirstie Allsop and Phil Spencer are the presenters of ‘Location, Location, Location.’ An English television programme where couples whose inability to choose somewhere to live, necessitates a camera crew and two property experts to find them a new residence. It’s formulaic, i.e. here’s a shit house that you can afford in your area, here’s a mansion you can afford in an area 150 miles away from your search area, and, oh look, there’s a nice house in an area not too far from where you actually want to live, but that you can afford. Believe it or not, it’s gripping stuff. The odd curveball is thrown in for good measure – a pregnancy, someone losing their job, the global recession, so that Kirstie and Phil’s original brief is ripped into shreds and stamped on.

Kirstie and Phil are nothing short of gorgeous. I could marry both of them. He has a cheeky charm with a school boy sense of humour and drinks a proper pint of bitter down the pub. He’s  follicly challenged but is handsome and fit. Kirstie talks dead posh, wears clothes from the 1950s and shoes that a stilt walker would struggle in. She spends most of an episode chastising Phil and having a go at the house hunters for not choosing the house she likes best. They are a great double act and they genuinely make you feel that you could go down the boozer with them and have a right laugh.

So what were they doing in my bedroom last night?

Presenting Location x3 of course. Okay, so possibly not the stuff of porn you were hoping for, but it’s still worthy of a post. I have – against all my better judgement – installed a TV in the bedroom. When I say installed, I mean placed a tiny flat screen on a rickety old chair by my side of the bed. I have now become someone I vowed I would never be: one of ‘those people’ who watch telly in bed. And I absolutely love it! I now do everything I vowed not to do if I ever broke my original vow of not watching television in bed. This includes going to bed directly after the children are tucked in – whether we have guests or not. Sitting upright against two pillows under the duvet in my pj’s and eating. Yes eating real food in bed.

Call me a lazy good-for-nothing chavving Pot Noodle eating pikey if you will (though it may take some time), but I am as happy as a pig in plop. Where will it all end, I ask myself? Installing Sky TV? Buying a Soda Stream? Getting a caravan? Does anyone really care? Anyway, gotta go, I have a hot date in the bedroom with ‘The Mentalist.’