Mrs Nick summons me unto the computer.
'What do you think we have a long weekend away here? ' Shows image of 4* 15th century coaching inn in rural location.
When?
'In a couple of weeks.'
OK
We book. Pricey. Job done.
Then I hear her on the phone.
Turns out this is so we can attend a Welsh Latin American Festival. Every fooking Paul Simon playing Peruvian band in the world will be there, along with white rastafarians, people in caravans, people with dogs on strings, people stinking of patchouli oil and dressed in home made clothing and - the highlight - an ALL DAY FOOKING SEMINAR with the Bolivian ambassador.
She has stitched me up!!
I shall wear a suit at all times, I have decided. I can feel my buried Thatcherite alter ego rising up