It was late. We’d already missed the moonlight kayaking due to work commitments, and now we were wending our torturous way towards Clonakilty trapped behind a leisurely puttering 1994 Ford Transit van. Its exhaust literally hanging by a string, glanced dangerously close to the road as it bopped gamely over bumps.
A stop at a service station that was out of anything edible had impaired my normally delightful good nature, and Him Indoors had...
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