Our close friends Jake and Rafia have invited us on holiday. However, before we could look at brochures or brush up on our pidgin Eskimo, we had to tell them they would be sharing accommodation with three heavy snorers.

"Well, that rules out camping," said Rafia, who admitted she herself had a peculiar habit of clicking like a dolphin when asleep. "But we could try a very large villa."

I'm not sure this is a solution either unless they're prepared to wear ear plugs. The other evening my husband came home after I'd gone to bed and swore he could hear my snoring all the way from Haywards Heath.

I countered this by saying that the vibrations made by his soft palate measure at least 5.7 on the Richter scale and have been known to cause tidal waves in Tahiti.

He said he's worried my snoring is making him deaf. I said: "Pardon?" And so it went on.

It was inevitable that our daughter Eve would inherit the snoring gene. If she falls asleep in her pushchair while we're around town, other shoppers can hardly believe their ears.

How can such a sweet toddler be

making such ugly, grown-up sounds? Snoring in your own home is not something which should make you feel embarrassed or ashamed.

It's not normally something you can control and it's certainly odd that you can't hear yourself doing it.

In public, however, it's just not acceptable.

Who hasn't woken with a start on a train and wondered if they've been amusing their fellow commuters by grunting like pig and drooling like a St Bernard?

Or what about nodding off in a warm theatre while sitting through something less than gripping?

This must be so demoralising for the performers. Watching members of your audience fall asleep is bad enough, but hearing them wheeze and snuffle during a passionate love scene really is adding insult to injury.

I've even been at dinner parties where guests have tried to sneak in a quick snooze between courses and have

been found out when a lull in conversation reveals their laboured, heavy breathing.

I'm not proud that I snore. In fact, I'm a little worried about it. Although it

has its comic side, I gather it has been linked to all sorts of serious medical conditions.

I can't remember what they are right now, but being murdered by a neighbour might be one of them.

I'm sure it's a factor in the break-up of relationships, too. Or, at the very least, often thrown into arguments by the

losing side who resort to the "and another thing..." tactic.

Yes, I suppose I thank my lucky stars that my husband and I are both noisy sleepers and that if one of us complains, the other has every right to complain just as loudly.

But now that we've agreed to go on holiday with Jake and Rafia, maybe we should be a little more considerate of others and find a cure.

All suggestions welcome, as long as they're not lethal, illegal or involve bloodsucking leeches.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.