Good, better, best

The phone rings. It is the LOML. "Are you doing anything later?" she asks.

"I've got stuff to be getting on with," I reply, "but nothing that won't wait. Why?"

"I just wondered if you wanted to go our for lunch?"

Do I ever. This is just the sort of thing that I imagined we homeworkers would do regularly.

She arrives to pick me up. On the way, I look across from the manly driver's seat, and she is texting.

"Who are you texting?"

"Mr and Mrs Flash Pete. I wondered if they'd like to come too. He's working from home today."

This is officially now A Work Of Genius. I've actually worked hard this morning - advertising sorted, outstanding letters and emails sent, cheques into bank, all prepared for 2 new clients next week. It's an ordinary Friday lunchtime, and I'm going for lunch with my wife and mates.

Mrs Pete duly texts back - of course they can come: they will be there in a sufficient time for us to have a large starter to be getting on with and me a couple of pints of Old Speckled Hen, digest a bit, and then order mains when they arrive. This could Hardly Be Better.

A good time is had by all. "What's this in aid of?" asks Pete, when they get there.

"Nothing at all" we reply. "Just had some invoices paid, I suppose, is all." And isn't that the best reason of all?

Flash Pete regales us wittily with anecdotes from a recent stag do in Budapest. Mrs Pete keeps cutting him off talking about mundane things: like school, or the house, just before the punchline of each story. "Sorry, am I boring you?", says Pete. "If you don't want to hear about shooting AK47s in an abandoned factory/accommodating Hungarian lapdancers, you only need to say."

I giggle.

And now here I am writing this. Later this evening I'm going round to play Ghost Recon on Pete's XBox 360. The LOML will take Child One to karate, so I don't even need to worry about him.

If you're expecting a pithy sign off line, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed.

A good day today. About time.