This evening I was supposed to meet Mr Fogg at the local pool for a brief swim after work. When he didn’t show I thought, ok, it’s been a long day, I’ll see him at home.

On arriving home to see what happened to him, Mr Fogg explained that he had been planning to meet me but events prevented his attendance.

It turns out that on arrival home in full motorbike gear (thick, warm trousers, protective jacket and crucially, strong bikers boots) he had started to do the usual undressing act in the kitchen to remove jacket, biker boots then thick trousers. Ah, cut to Mr Fogg who started to pull the zipper to said biker boots only for it to snap. Twenty five minutes of a struggling biker trying desperately to get said boots off (all the while still stuck in said thick heavy trousers in 25 degree humid heat) and Mr Fogg finally had to go off in search of pliers to pull the broken zip down!!

I can only manage the struggle, the language and the comedy associated with the sight of a half naked biker, one leg out of the biker trousers, boot clad hopping around the kitchen working up a temper and a sweat fighting with the broken boot. Wish I’d have been there!

Oh dear, and it’s only Monday too……