It was a delightful evening tonight, when I nipped off down to the supermarket. Really, I thought, it isn't often when you're sitting on the couch at home, with your son cooking dinner in the kitchen, and your wife quietly contemplating how to make the world a better place.
And then she says "you know what we need?", and while I could instantly name any number of such things I thought it best to respond in the negative on this particular occasion. "Whisky", she said, which perked me up no end in fact, this being something of a unique request from that particular direction - unique, at least, during the last 15 years of our mutually assured nirvana.
"Right!" I replied. "Where's my keys & wallet", seizing the opportunity grandly. "I'll be back in 15 minutes".
"And cream, I think, to go with the raspberries" she mused.
I had not noticed the raspberries, but cream is usually a harmonious addition to any household endeavour, I've noted, and if there's whisky as well it seems unlikely that this will fall flat.
With number two son's endeavours approaching their climactic denouement I felt time was of the essence, so I raced to the door, climbed into our automotive financial black hole, put the pedal somewhat closer to the metal than it's default position and headed in search of an establishment where I could find both of these necessary ingredients.
Sadly, it seems that the average supermarket in this part of Ireland closes at 9:00pm, and not at some time more convenient to the random moments when such grand ideas seize one's mind.
So it appears that I have to survive another day of waiting for the cream and the whisky. And the raspberries.