“So,” I said to Richard, “what did you cook for yourself on Saturday night while I was away?” We were on our way back from Lime Street Station where he’d kindly come to collect me after my weekend in Manchester.
“I got indigestion,” he said.
“What from? What did you eat?”
“Pilchards and scrambled egg on toast,” he said, “followed by rhubarb pie. And haggis.”