I gather thermos-mug-thing (fully earl greyed), car key, some papers and the laptop, as I prepare to head off for an Important Meeting. At this point, I know that I have looked better.
Emma: Oh dear.
Emma: Your eyes.
Shane: (looks in mirror) Oosh.
Emma: Mm, tired. And (casts an eye over Shane), y’ know, you can ask me to iron your shirts.
Shane: Oh, right. But wouldn’t that be dangerous – possibly hinting at some horrible patriarchal future? One minute shirt-ironing, the next – you’re cooking all of our meals and buying underpants for me whilst I’m fixing cars, pottering in sheds and doing real man stuff – drinking beer, betting on horses, sitting in an armchair.
Emma: You know how to fix cars?
Emma: (proffers pitying look) Or you could iron your shirts yourself.
Shane: Where am I going to get the time to iron shirts! What with my now growing a beard, my time is all gone.
Emma: (shaking head) Go!
As I drive away, I tune in to Radio 4 - an attempt to raise my intellectual game. Soon, I am listening to Melvin Bragg talking to some mathematicians about ‘group theory’. This is all too much. I switch to a CD. Soon, I am listening to Alex’ audio version of George’s Marvellous Medicine. I have found my level.