Well, it’s obviously getting to me.
I had a dream where I was having a Brexit argument with Fiona Bruce on the top of a London bus. I accused her of never having been poor and only having a vest to wear.
When I got off at Kings Cross I realised that I had left my heavy hardback library book and my new, crushed raspberry, suede handbag behind.
Parents-in-Law. What do/did you call them?