The old bag..

This morning, my mother called round to borrow a small overnight bag for her weekend away. She and Genghis (my cat) sat together on the sofa, scowling like a couple of dyspeptic gargoyles as I displayed my full range of luggage (2 battered red cases and a backpack.)

"Don't you have anything in slate?" my mother asked, clearly mistaking me for a branch of John Lewis. "Taupe? Monochrome?"

"No. There's this marvellous thing you can get nowadays. It's called colour." I answered. "Now, tell me more about this weekend away. Where are you actually going?"

"Devon...some sort of specialist hotel, where you swap partners every half hour. It's so different from anything I've ever done before, but one has to live a little. Don't you think so Genghis?"

Genghis looked appalled, and jumped off the sofa, refusing to give an opinion.

"And then, if Rupert plays his cards right, there's a mixed couples thing in Glasgow in a fortnight. It'll be marvellous."

It was when she mentioned Rupert's 'expertise with a rubber' that Genghis retched extravagantly.

I think I did too.....