The morning is crisp and bright, but I am most certainly neither of these things. It is 6 o’clock in the morning and I am sat in the back of my brother-in-law’s car, on the way to Dover.
I am suffering threefold. Firstly, I have a mild hangover and have not yet fully regained use of my entire range of faculties since I reluctantly rose at 5am. Secondly, the vehicle in which I am travelling has oft been host to a dog of the hairiest variety and my body is racked with sneezing fits as the furry jetsam this canine has left behind finds its way into my nostrils. Lastly, but in absolutely no way leastly, my ears are being assaulted by the incessant, grating voice of the woman in the passenger seat.
This woman’s name is Joan and this is, I think, only the third time I’ve ever met…
View original post 1,817 more words