The spring rays of evening sun trickle down on the Village; chirping birds dwarf any noise from the road. I gaze out on to the front garden, in a reflective mood.

None of us have been very well recently, with a cough. And we are very tired, as the Toddler refuses to wait until the rabbit clock opens its bright bunny eyes before waking up and expecting us to be entertaining. Plus I am sure that I am approaching a crossroads in my life.

The thing about crossroads is that you can either turn left, or you can turn right. Alternatively, you can go straight ahead, being sure to give way to traffic from the left or right (depending on whether you are on the major or minor road). The problem is that if you stop to think too much at the junction, then a man in a lorry behind you will start hooting, and after a while perhaps get out and punch you in the face. (For the purposes of the analogy there is no safe place to pull over off the road, as there is a high wall on both sides and no pavement/layby etc).

It is a dilemma.

I start worrying that the LTLP might be getting a bit eccentric, as I wander outside to take the chickens their pudding. Yesterday she was in a well-to-do establishment, and retired to ‘freshen up’. It was only after wondering for ages why the toilet paper was on the other side of the room that she realised that she had performed her ablutions in the bidet. She has been working very hard recently, and I hope that she is not losing it.

“Here you go, chickens!” I offer, setting the pots down. They seem to have enjoyed their asparagus. We chat a while before I retire back towards the house.

‘I would do anything to make the LTLP’s life a bit easier,’ I think to myself as I scrunch across the gravel.

Smoke starts curling up around me from my pants.

I waft it away irritably. Spring is coming. We need to relax a bit more.