In the meantime my stepfather decided now was the perfect time to pitch and tar the peeling roof without changing his clothes or checking there was any white spirit. Thankfully Mum has wonderful neighbours whom lent us some to clean the oily black marks he'd left in the kitchen and the fascias as he progressed to mowing the lawn. Meanwhile, their son had a great time following Kyle up the driveway as she decided to go for a jog.
Either way, we were somewhat late going out for dinner. Mind you, dinner made up for it - it was fab. (And no, there wasn't a table booked. Apparently someone else should have looked up the number and done it! Heh!) It's a damned shame we don't have a Bug and Jottle near us in Somerset; the glazed gammon was marvellous and the vegetables perfect. His Lordship didn't have any troubles with red hot peanesses this time, but he did choke on an unusually large one. Bless him.
Getting back home again was interesting, as Himself and Myself were supposed to be meeting friends in the Barge, middle of town, at 7.30. So we solved it by bunging my sister in the boot. (Yes, the same gullible one that we stuffed into the cushion covers. You'd have thought, after similar treatment over the years, that she'd have learned by now.)
We had a great time even if Bogle didn't, as we were whipping round tight corners, swinging wide around roundabouts, flinging sharply round bends and finding the speed-bumpiest road possible. We managed to make it home and to town only 30 minutes late - just in time to catch the start of a good round of beers and plenty of bruises for my sister.