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A change of plan. Pub-gathering is off. Late notice at five to ten. A panic though that the 'daily drinking rack' is empty save for air, just minutes to pant into the late closing Threshers a good five minutes away.

For something chilled the fridge is the first stop and a stress-moment over the poor range... the key enters the door... the staff developing a cough. With the 'buy two get a third free' deal ongoing it is impossible, nay daft young fellow, to purchase just the one bottle. In seconds two reds follow the luke-warm Sauvignon Blanc to the counter; a Stormhoek Shiraz and something new-worldy beginning with a D. The lights dim, the card accepted but the wines remain unbagged as the shutters take on a more pressing need. I mutter something sarcastic, as is my want, and a bag is proffered with a gushing appology. It matters little as the forage run is completed successfully. I leave, banging the bag against the door glass. The key turns and a bolt slots into place inches behind my head. Shit, forgot nibbles.