ORDER FROM CHAOS

The tired wife arrives home from her Bavarian bun-fight and is reluctant to prepare a repast of six day old haggis. My body is a temple and so after my efforts of the previous night, I am reluctant to put my liver through a repeat performance. But being a loving husband I offer repairing to the pub for nourishment. I force down an excellent pint of Greene King IPA to bed down the gammon, eggs & chips.

We return up the lane as the usual suspects are walking down the lane. A lucky escape for my temple.

Back home on the kitchen table there are 28 freeze dried Drytech main meals in a large cardboard box that Ian has very kindly sent at a reduced price for my walk. The bottom of the stairs is awash with new toilets, wooden flooring, hand-basins taps and tiles. The house is not as it should be.

I am told the box cannot stay there. It has to be ferried to Mission Control (aka my office upstairs) to join with the rest of the piles of maps, walking guides, and walking kit. Mission Control is becoming crowded.

I need to make a start on parcelling it all up for their destinations. The downstairs loo must be finished. There must be order out of this chaos.

Or I am a Dead Man.