And it has been. Mrs P got herself hopelessly lost in Liverpool (despite having driven to her destination twice before), made herself late to get back for a meeting at college to discuss the trip to Belgium, or thereabouts, which took place two hours before the advertised time, and they were 30 minutes early for the one that was to follow. So they came home.
Confused? I was. Just the usual confabulation for me (see point 2) and a hurried drive to get Master P to his ‘how to kick seven bells’ out of anyone lesson. That ‘anyone’ being me then. Potentially. I’m growing a monster.