Busy Friday

Thursday didn't go too well then.

The police say it is no excuse, so bring the licence when you get it and no pleading. And cut out the grovelling.

Then I get to the crashed car centre at 3.30 and Bloke says, 'They took it Wednesday. It's in Hertford. Are you going that way?'

This morning then, I bundle Tiger in the back of Big Bro's car and drive to Hertford where I am escorted by another bloke to the back end of a field where I find the crumpled Berlingo minus its tax disc but with its treasures.

Tiger helps load up our bin bags with stones from Romney marsh, sticks from everywhere, crayons, broken audio tapes, a stuffed elephant, two unicorns, a bottle of Dettol, three French folders, four odd gloves, two pairs of knickers, a home-made butterfly net, five pairs of socks, one wellington boot, a picture of an albatross, factor 40 sunscreen, a 3-year old bottle of washing up liquid, the bungs from the blow-up airbed, coins from Latvia, books on assorted subjects from bird watching to fossils, umpteen brochures for tourist sites across the UK, a bag of orchard apples, two sheets of silver card...

After 30 minutes Bloke is staring at his watch and looking like his soul has left his body.