When I was small, we had a Great Dane, fittingly, named Magnus. He was black and white, gentle natured, and the size of a pony. We loved him. He loved us also. So much so, that once in a while, he used to escape through the side door of our Virginia Water house, and make a beeline for the schoolyard of our local country prep. It was a good ten minute drive away. He’d appear in the playground, and all the children would start screaming. All except my brother and I. Ten minutes later, my Mum would arrive in our white station wagon to take him home. This happened several times. If you have some time this week, watch Dogs. Its moving and inspiring and just the kind of television for cold, winter evenings.