MY wife likes to know who’s calling her before she answers her phone so she’s got individual ring-tones for me and our four children.

For me, it’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” by Andy Williams. The next line, rather appropriately, is “You’re just too good to be true”. Before you ask, yes, she chose it all by herself and, no, she’s never considered “Things Can Only Get Better” by D-ream.

For Christopher, the ring-tone is “Time Warp”, from his favourite musical, The Rocky Horror Show. For Jack, it’s “This Charming Man” by The Smiths, because he thinks he’s cool and sophisticated. For Max, it’s “Sex Bomb” by Tom Jones, because he’s always looking in the mirror. And for Hannah, it’s Dancing Queen, by Abba, because dancing, along with food, has been her lifelong passion.

These days, Hannah is having a break from her career as a dancer and is working for British Airways in a bid to see as much of the world as possible while she’s still young.

In the past few weeks, she’s been as far afield as Sydney, Johannesburg, Cape Town, Washington, Chicago, and Nairobi and is having a whale of a time.

Exciting though it is, it’s also hard for my wife because she and Hannah are extremely close. They’re always sending each other phone messages – texts and What’s Apps.

That’s all very well but, when she’s in some far-off corner of the world, Hannah has no concept of what time it is in England. And that means we keep getting blasts of Dancing Queen in our bedroom at three or four in the morning.

I’m not a great sleeper at the best of times so this is becoming a real issue. After hours of tossing and turning, I’ll have got off to sleep only to be woken in a blind panic by Agnetha, Anni-Frid, Bjorn and Benny singing their Swedish hearts out.

“Who’s that?” I groan to my wife.

“Oh, it’s just Hannah, from Nairobi,” she replies. “She’s sent us a picture of a baby elephant.”

As soon as I nod off again, there’s another chorus of Dancing Queen.

“It’s a giraffe this time,” says my wife. “She must be on safari.”

Every flaming picture comes with another musical alarm. The elephant and giraffe were followed by a lion, wildebeest and zebra, then a message: “Tell Dad I’m on a horse.”

To be blunt, I didn’t care whether she was on a horse, in a Jeep, or a Jumbo Jet. I’d have been quite happy if the baby elephant had stolen her phone and tossed it into a crocodile-infested river.

And, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always quite liked Abba, but I’ve really, really gone off them lately.

I’m thinking about getting a glitter ball for our bedroom and advertising it as a night club – or even a venue for the Eurovision Song Contest.

We might as well go the whole hog and have Graham Norton in bed with us.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

THANK you to Michelle Nattrass, from St Teresa’s Hospice in Darlington, for passing on a story about granddaughter Freya, six, who’d been on a visit to Holy Island.

“Where are all the animals, Nan?” she asked her Grandma.

Confused, Michelle said: “What animals?”

“You said we were going to Linda’s Farm,” came the reply.

DARLINGTON hairdresser Nigel Dowson was giggling about three-year-old grandson Blake and his toy tool kit.

“Oh, you’ve got pliers,” exclaimed Nigel.

“No, I haven’t, Grandad,” came the reply.

“Yes, you have – they’re called pliers,” Nigel told him.

“No, Grandad,” insisted Blake, “they’re called a pair of pliers!”

THE THINGS MUMS SAY

My Mum, 84, had to cut short a conversation with me to phone my brother in America to make sure he was up for an important meeting.

“I’ll have to go – I just need to make sure Paul’s aroused,” she said.