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Down at the Oak the troups had gathered, even Toby Jug. He must have skin like a Rhino after the insults he’d suffered, the day before. The conversation gravitated toward ‘Cold calling’ and how very annoying it can be. David, who needs a cat nap in the afternoon, due to his unusual working hours, led the first attack by relating that on many occasions, he had been disturbed, by an unwanted call from a double glazing or mobile telephone salesperson. Woken from vital sleep David would strike, like a wounded animal, launching into ruthless verbal abuse. Chris added another similar story by informing the group that once having phoned me, albeit in an Indian accent, he was frostily greeted by ‘Just, fuck off’.

 I had not recognised his voice but I had been, in the past, pestered to death by cold calls from Bombay to ‘upgrade’ my phone. I had become quite accustomed to giving them short shrift by a brief, yet succinct “F”off. I must change my response to these poor ‘tele sales’ people, after all everybody needs to make a crust.

Chris has finally discovered his ‘out of date’ passport so that Jo can fill in the relevant spaces in order to become ‘international man’. He also admitted that Danny has been reeled into the Beaujolais run as support vehicle. I am sure that it has not crossed his mind that, incidentally, he can blast the balls off his 820CSi on the French autoroutes. Chris may also find the comfort and speed of the CSi too tempting to refuse and may possibly forego the prospect of freezing his nuts off in the Burlington.

Just as we were leaving the Oak I noticed in the office a sticky roll of paper with a selection of human hair, which apparently had been sourced from different areas of the body from both males and females. (The office is the area in the Oak where the memorabilia from holiday trips, world travels, projects, the ism’s of pertinent and relevant, bad, tasteless photographs, Bushism’s and other curiosities are arranged then duly posted). Apparently, these hairy trophies were acquired on Saturday night from various visitors to the pub, who inadvertently had wandered into the madhouse. I did ask the purpose of this bizarre collection of hair but no one could offer an explanation.

We returned home to finalise the details of our working holiday in France.