Every time we have an adventure in the Beaglemobile we get just a little better at making best use of its limited living space. It requires a very different approach from past trips in the caravan where we’ve taken not just the kitchen sink but everything in the cupboard underneath it as well, yet still had enough space to swing a sixteen-squeakered monkey toy by its tail. We’ve now got a pretty good system for food, water and clothing (both clean and muddied), but the  sleeping arrangements are still proving to be a bit of a challenge.

On a recent trip to the Mull of Galloway Susan figured she’d found the perfect solution: get rid of me! She suggested making up the bed just before I went out for a nighttime shoot of the lighthouse. I was naturally resistant to the idea because I knew that with me out of the way, she and our two pups could stretch out to fill most of the bed, leaving me with a little more than a postage-stamp to sleep on when I returned. Needless to say I was soundly outvoted in the “Bed Now!” poll by two paws and one hand to one, and went outside into the cold clear night while the rest of the party snuggled under the covers.

On my return things worked out much better than expected; in fact it turned out that being last to bed actually gave me an advantage, because it allowed me to become a human version of The Bigglet. Ordinarily he’s the last one in and his insertion method is ruthlessly efficient, gaining a much bigger share of the bed than a little furry person called Biggles should really have. He trots up along the side that is next to all the fittings (cupboard doors and such), gets his back firmly against solid wood and uses both his paws and his noxious little white bum to force the rest of us into an ever smaller portion of the bed.

Now it was my turn. Compelled by the desperate need to sleep and armed with a gut full of gas from hurriedly consuming a bag of dry roasted peanuts during my photography session, I applied the Biggles bed entry technique almost flawlessly. I say almost flawlessly, because although I got space, I didn’t get enough blanket to cover my feet. However, as I put the squeeze on the other bed occupants, Beanie kind of popped out and ended up nestling by my toes, keeping them toasty warm.

I only got to enjoy the bed for a few hours however; all too soon my alarm told me it was time to go back out for a bit of sunrise photography. As I left the van Susan taunted me with the thought that while I was out there shivering, she’d get to enjoy all that extra free space in the bed.

I stayed out taking photos longer than intended, and yet when I arrived back at the van everyone was still snuggled under the covers. It turned out that things hadn’t quite gone to plan for Susan however. She’d expected Biggles to stay in his part of the bed, leaving her ample room to stretch out. It didn’t work that way; Biggles may like having his own space, but that space still has to be next to another living body. No matter where she moved in the bed Biggles homed in on her, making otherwise spacious sleeping arrangements seem cramped.

Comfortable or not, it still took some considerable coaxing to get all the stop-in-beds up and ready for a sniffy, stimulating walk in the bright morning sunshine.

Breakfast was served on our return to the van, and somehow the eating arrangements became almost as cramped as those for sleeping. It’s funny how a little girl’s bowl can migrate towards her brother’s when he seems to have a bit more in his.

We sat and relaxed for a while as other visitors began to arrive at the lighthouse, and though Biggles kept a close watch on each every one of them, there was surprisingly little woofage. Is his lordship finally becoming more tolerant of other people and dogs? It’s going to take more than one well-behaved outing to convince me.