So off I go to try Titch's new fly sheet on him. It is white and shiny and new, and Titch is not pleased.
Titch: What is THAT?
Me: It's your new fly sheet.
Titch: You mean, you're expecting me to WEAR it?
Me: Of course.
Titch: What, now?
Me: Of course now. It was expensive, and I need to make sure it fits.
There follows a lengthy struggle. There are a lot of straps and fastenings, and Titch has a tiny waist, so there has to be a lot of adjustment. But we're finally done.
Me: There. Isn't that great?
Titch (who has by now turned his face to the wall): I look ridiculous!
Me: No, you don't. And it'll keep the flies off.
Titch: What flies? (Today is cool and it's true; there aren't any).
Me: The flies you were making such a fuss about on Monday.
Titch: Hmph. (He knows I'm right)
So I take the fly sheet off again, relieved that it fits, because by now its ungrateful new owner has shat on it, and off we go for a hack. It's quite a nice day, and we both cheer up. We come across New Age people doing mystical things in the middle of a new crop circle. The crop circle is not a particularly good one, but that never seems to deter the visitors.
Titch (gazing at them scornfully): Silly buggers.
And I have to say, I agree with him.