Something very disturbing took place in my bedroom on Friday night.

I woke in the early hours and had absolutely no idea where I was.

The bed felt alien and uncomfortable and the room was in total darkness, not a chink of light anywhere.

From somewhere close by came the sound of unfamiliar, heavy breathing.

All of this was most unnerving. You see I never, ever, sleep in the dark.

Being a timid soul I always leave the hallway light switched on. And I thought I was alone.

I reached for the switch on my bedside lamp but it wasn't there. Help!

I couldn't be in my own bed, after all, so whose bed was I in? As far as I could remember I hadn't been led astray by drink and/or lust earlier in the evening.

Feeling the first stirrings of a panic attack about to break, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, stood up - and cracked my head against something hard and consequently painful.

An object I'd dislodged fell and crashed against the bedhead.

There was a shout - it sounded like "Yewawight?" - and a light flashed on.

Standing in the doorway was my Best Friend, the bossy one from Yorkshire, down for a weekend in Brighton.

Unfortunately, being semi-conscious and confused (a glance at my watch told me it was 2.45am), I'd forgotten she was in the house.

Ah, my dear BF, the houseguest from hell, lippy, opinionated, always knows what's best for you - and for her, of course.

That's why I was in the spare bedroom, the one with the lumpy mattress and the shelf full of knick-knacks (unwanted gifts) directly above the bed.

And that's why the hall light was switched off. She'd switched it off.

It disturbed her dreams, she said.

"Do you always sleep with the light on?" she asked the next morning.

Before I could deny anything, she added: "That's very wasteful, it must really bump up your electricity bill. You're not afraid of the dark or anything childish like that are you?"

Who? Me? Afraid of the dark? Afraid of the misshapen creatures of the night lurking in the shadows by the wardrobe? Afraid of the gremlins hiding under the bed, ready to bite off my fingers and toes if they find me in the dark and alone?

As if reading my thoughts she said: "And you're not one of those people who always look under the bed before getting in it, are you?"

"Of course not," I said laughing. "Unfortunately, at my age I find more bogey men lying in my bed than under it."

"Ha! Wishful thinking," she replied.

On Saturday night we were late turning in. "Now then, no peeping under the bed," said the BF, sarcastically as she switched off the hallway light.

A couple of minutes later I heard her shriek. It was my turn to go to the rescue.

She was standing at the side of the bed - my nice, comfortable bed - looking decidedly distressed.

"There's a spider on the wall by the dressing table," she wailed.

"Don't worry," I said, trying not to smirk. "They only move about in the dark, it's a well-known fact."

Then, triumphantly, I switched the hallway light back on.

And guess what? She didn't turn it off again.