The leg fell off the ironing board. There is no alternative purpose for a monopod ironing board incapable of defying gravity, so the rickety old contraption is now propped outside in the rain, next to the recycling bin. This happened on Sunday morning, when we were trying to leave the house for a set time. Two thick bath towels doubled over and spread across a kitchen work top proved themselves to be a serviceable stand-in to the ironing board, and we even congratulated ourselves at how smartly dressed we were as we locked the front door. Big mistake. Five minutes later, it began to rain. Ten minutes later, despite huddling under umbrellas, we were drenched from the thighs down. We managed to dry out during the forty-five minute bus journey. Most of the sand brushed off, too. Yes, sand; we live by the sea, remember. Each time a storm blows in from the west, it carries half of the beach with it. Our bus arrived in Liverpool city centre at the same time as the thunder storm which