A Lost Husband

We're off to Devon tomorrow for a few days - or rather, Molls and I are. Himself is dropping us at my mother's so we can have a few Girls' Days while he peruses the boat yards of Lymington, Southampton, Gosport etc. in pursuit of an ex-racing boat that he can't afford. Well, it keeps him happy and out of mischief. We hope.

Anyway, this afternoon Moll and I did one of our favourite walks and Himself had a quick half in the pub while waiting for us - and we usually meet him there. We got to the pub - no husband. I retraced my steps - no sign of him. Back to the pub. No sign. Saw the van, couldnt get in. No mobile, no money, bag in van, no keys. Swore. Appealed to Molls who grinned and wagged her tail and said, "I dunno Mum," or something similar.

We repeated the above exercise with me trying not to get increasingly frantic. Himself is not a walker, you see. He grudgingly comes on the short walk with Moll in the morning and That's It. Added to which he was off to do a job at 5pm and this was 4.15pm. I'd last seen him at 2.45.

One last time I went back asking everyone en route. By this time I was convinced he'd fallen into a ditch, broken a leg, had a heart attack - you know the kind of thing. I called an d called him, panic rising in my chest as I ran along the path, legs wobbly with fear.

And just as I asked yet another couple if they'd seen someone matching his description, there he was lolloping along the beach. I fell into his arms, weeping and swearing, "Where have you BEEN?"

As we walked back to the van he said he'd walked as far as the second field and waited for me, thought I was talking to someone, as I sometimes do. No comment.

"Anyway," he said. "Tomorrow and Friday you won't know where I am. I could be in a Laptop Club."

So That's what those dancers do......