I had a really weird dream last night: Carolyn and I were walking through a campsite in what I assume was Anglesey, when we spotted her oldest daughter trying to drive a white camper van. We called to her to stop, saying the owner would be really cross, but she said she knew it was my camper van really (which it wasn't) and carried on practicing her driving (including, I have to say, some pretty impressive reversing manoeuvres). Then Ann and Bill's gay dog ran up and started biting at the hems of my trouser legs. The next thing I knew, Carolyn and I were in an office somewhere, and she was explaining how it was really important for her to arrange a meeting between her boss and the actress Imogen Stubbs. I said that, by an amazing co-incidence, I happened to know Imogen Stubbs quite well, because she was a friend of Irish Mick, and lived at 66, Bromborough Village Road (Note: Imogen Stubbs is not a friend of Irish Mick, nor, as far as I know, does she live at 66, Bromborough Village Road—but she did in this dream.) Then Carolyn had somehow disappeared, and Irish Mick brought Imogen Stubbs into the room. Only it wasn't really Imogen Stubbs; it was this very fat woman, who vaguely resembled a very fat Imogen Stubbs. I decided to go along with her pretence: "So, Imogen, would you be happy to meet Carolyn and her boss?" I asked. "Erm," said the pretend, fat Imogen Stubbs, clearly embarrassed, "I'd rather not, if you don't mind… Not after last time."
And then I woke up.
All of which goes to prove that you really shouldn't mix grape and grain.
Yes, yes, I know what you're wondering: where was Stense in all this? Exactly!! Boy, has she got some explaining to do!