AS I write this, I’m waiting for a man to come and tell me how to make my dog behave.

After five years living with the aforementioned animal – a big wuss if ever there was one - you’d think I’d have cracked it.

But to my surprise and dismay, things recently went a bit awry.

There’s been a fair amount of change and stress in our family over the past year (all ok at present, thank you).

My theory is that this has unsettled the former Journal Dog of the Week, and that in a misguided attempt to protect me, he’s been overindulging in the DIY assertiveness training department.

However, there’s not much point trying to psychoanalyse border collies. One ought to work from the assumption that they’re all barking anyway.

It’s me that needs help, to reassert control.

So I’ve enlisted George, a highly-recommended trainer, and after just three sessions of walking to heel in the park, the difference is remarkable. The dog’s getting better, too.

I’m secretly hoping that the lessons learned will be equally applicable to husbands.

Mine’s quite well-trained, on the whole. I watched him this morning, taking his mug to put in the dishwasher. So far, so good.

However, when he opened the door and discovered it was full of clean crockery waiting to be unloaded, he shut it again, put the mug on the worktop for someone else (I wonder who?) to deal with, and sidled out of the kitchen with an apologetic smile.

As the dog might say, Grrrr!

* IN the 30 minutes I spent seething in a queue to get out of Tesco’s car park on a Saturday afternoon I came to two conclusions.

1) I won’t be shopping there again until they sort out their access problems

2) Only a complete lunatic would consider allowing a second superstore to be built feeding onto the same roundabout.

Can’t Sainsbury’s find an alternative site to the north or west of the city, where all the new housing is going? And leave our natural flood plain to do its job?