DORA doesn't think I belong in our house. I always come home to a warm welcome from the rest of the family but I wouldn't if our Dora had her way.

She's our youngest cat and I'm very fond of her. But she's not that keen on me.

I try to win her favour in all sorts of ways, from getting down on all fours to addressing her in my special cat voice.

But it won't rub. Dora simply sniffs and points to the cat flap, growling something that sounds like, "miaownyabike, pal".

Even so, home, to me, is the best place to be. And that, according to an Ikea survey, is what it means to most of us.

Their new survey reveals that four out of five of us feel most able to be ourselves at home and six out of ten say it is their most important place in the world.

But what of the flip side? What of the others who didn't agree? Think of the children for whom the words, Wait 'til your father comes home' triggers dread. Or people whose partners think it acceptable to use their fists on them. Or those to whom home means loneliness.

And think, too, of the many who have no homes to go to at all.

Sometimes we take happiness for granted and I am, for sure, one of the lucky ones.

So, too, is our disdainful but very content Dora. Except, of course, when I manage to bag the plum spot by the fire. And point to the cat flap, doing my smuggest miaow'.

...

MY big toe may not be the most scientific measure regarding Southbourne shingle. But, after my barefoot walk on the beach this week, I would like to report that I am nursing a cut that I am prepared to present as photographic evidence.

In the form, of course, of a digital image.