Unaware of quite what it was that awoke him, Michael Schumacher reaches out... hidden sensors detect the movement, and the bedroom suddenly is bathed in low light.

He looks across to his beautiful wife Corrina, who is sleeping, he leans forward and kisses here on her bare shoulder.

He gets up from the bed, tip-toes across the cool parquet floor and grabs a sweater.

On his way to the kitchen he looks in on the bedrooms of his children, each of them sleeping peacefully, surrounded by their toys, and lost in the total and absolute security that their father's success affords them.

In the kitchen, Michael goes to the fridge, removes the large pitcher of milk and slowly pours himself a generous glass. He then goes to one of the cupboards and takes a couple of his favourite cookies - he still has to watch his weight, but surely one or two won't hurt.

He picks up a newspaper and allows himself a wry smile when he notices the picture of his former teammate, Eddie Irvine.

He reads the article with mild amusement; "the most boring world champion ever", "age is getting to him", "all he had to do..."

The German pulls a face, and nods, almost in agreement. He remembers the brash Ulsterman, who received a one-race ban just three races into his career, and who then, on appeal, had the 'sentence' increased to three races.

He remembers the arrogance, the loud mouth, the constant bragging and the slagging off of all and sundry. He remembers too the fear that the Ulsterman might beat him to the title back in '99, following that accident at Silverstone. He remembers how Mika Salo had to come to his aid in Germany and how 'the swerve' threw it all away in Japan.

Getting up from the table, Michael walks to the sink, washes the glass, and then returns to the table to wipe away the tell-tale evidence, the crumbs. Suddenly he stops, and reminds himself to ask Jean why, if he was such a great driver, Irvine really got the boot from Ferrari.

As he walks back to the bedroom, he looks in on his children again, and wonders why Irvine never married. He hasn't spoken to him in a while and wonders if the Ulsterman is still making his living from property, "that must be really satisfying", he whispers to himself.

As he reaches the bedroom, he pauses... opens the door on his right and flicks the light switch.

The reflection catches him unawares, the light from the hundreds of trophies is so dazzling he recoils. In his head he hears the cheers, tastes the Champagne... "property eh?" he murmurs.

He climbs into bed, pulling the covers over his wife.

"Boring, maybe," he whispers to himself... "but unfulfilled... never!"

He laughs as he switches out the light.