JOHN DODD What a difference an hour makes when you lose track of time...

I am following the advice of a farming columnist I read about how to adjust to the clocks going back. Don't do it. Keep to your own body clock, even though it means no extra hour in bed.

If it’s 7am on your wristwatch, then that’s the time to get up. Doesn’t matter if it’s now 6am GMT.

There! That was easy enough. Make tea. Let dog out. Let dog in again. Give it treat. Make coffee. Nothing’s changed, has it? Ah, remember now. Fell asleep last night watching Match of the Day and woke up after it had ended.

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Not on telly yet. Read thriller about murders in dope dens of New Orleans. Yawn. Match of the Day must be on now.

Damn it, forgot. It’s only 7.34am and Match of the Day is still a full half-hour away. Fiddle about. Everything strangely quiet. Not even next-door’s dog is up, kids other side of me obviously still in bed after noisy halloween party. Back to detective in dope den.

Where was I? Oh yes, Match of the Day is on. See first match and disputed goal. Oh dear, now my watch is saying it’s 9.30am so ready for my usual visit to the village shop and dog walk.

It means I have to leave in the middle of Match of the Day. Even the garden blackbirds look sleepy.

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I like going to village shop on a Sunday because there’s Peter the shopkeeper, my pal Big Andy, Terry-Whatsit all having a bit of a josh about yesterday’s football. Also want Sunday paper and breakfast croissant.

Ah, big pile of croissants because I’m the only person out and about. Trouble is, no Peter the grocer, (having a bit of a lie-in, says girl on counter), no Big Andy, no Terry-Whatsit. No leg-pull about football. Never mind, for once I can pick best croissant.

Eat croissant driving car and turn on radio. Instead of jolly magazine programme, it’s uplifting church music that’s good for the soul. Jolly magazine programme not started yet. Turn off uplifting church music good-for-the-soul.

Take dog for walk where the fishing ponds are part of a magnificent autumn backdrop of hills with golden crowns of trees and beyond that the downs; wonderfully intoxicating.

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Except it is foggy with clouds covering the distant downs. Realise if I’d been taking the walk an hour later, like everyone else, sun would be glinting down, filling the valley. 
Get back home. Missed all the rest of Match of the Day.

Do yesterday’s washing-up, fill coal scuttle, stare out of window. Realise it’s really only 10.30am everyone else’s time. Dip into thriller book. Don’t really care if hero gets out of drug den alive or not.

Turn on radio. The Archers. Hate the Archers, so switch off. Read car manual about repairing slow puncture. Two male blackbirds having really good fight under my hedge.

It’s noon my time, 11am everyone else’s. Pubs still closed. Go upstairs and have an extra hour in bed.