Why don't I get dressed before I come downstairs? I don't know. It's either because I'm a creature of habit or because I'm too darn lazy.
Next door's burglar alarm went off at one o'clock last night so I put on my dressing gown ( a theme emerges) and went and looked at her house front and back. Oh, and I took a walking stick for protection. Nobody seemed to be breaking in so I went back to bed and the alarm cut out after about ten minutes.
If my brain is working slowly this morning, that's why.
By the way, my dressing gowns (I have two to choose from) are ratty and made of towelling so any resemblance between me and Noel Coward is purely notional. Besides I don't wear a cravat.