Home for Christmas - Ruminations in the early hours

The church clock struck midnight. Christmas Day was here at last.

But something was niggling me. That clock had been stopped at three for as long as I could remember. Mother told me that some fellow had written a rhyme about it and then had become a famous poet. So the poem had become famous too. Apparently people came from all over the country to see this famous... church clock still at three. Turned out to be a nice little earner for local business: shops, cafes and what not, and because of that the Church Council had never had the clock fixed.

So how come it was striking midnight?

But I had a still more niggling thought (I am plagued by niggling thoughts) and it was this: I am not a rugby fan but I seemed to recollect that Prop Forward is a Rugby League position - not Rugby Union (who have a Loose Forward and a Tight Forward). So if one of Elsie's lovers was a prop forward, then she must have been with a Rugby League team.Now, I am not a snob, and it would not have bothered me had she been with men who played this barbaric northern game. Certainly not. What did conern me was the question of statistics: Since there are only thirteen players in a League team as compared to Fifteen in a Union team, if Elsie had been unfaithful to me with a League side, then she would have been unfaithul with a greater percentage of the team that if it had been a Union side!

The percentage difference would have been slight, I grant you, but it bothered me, and I resolved to satisfy myself on the matter.

I took my phone from the bedside table and switched it on, under the duvet, so as not to wake Elsie.
I reasoned that, even if my SIM card had been flushed down the pan, I would still be able to access the internet, and Google. I ducked my head under the duvet and began to type.

Suddenly. 'George, what are you doing down there? You naughty boy.' Elsie was propped on her elbow, fumbling for her glasses.

I jerked my head from under the duvet. 'I... I...' I faltered. 'I was just Googling.'

'Well why didn't you wake me, you silly boy. I would have Googled for you. My fingers are more nimble than yours.'

'Oh it doesn't matter now.' I said.

'Come here.' Commanded the wanton woman. And, before I could object, her arms were around me and we were threshing about the bed. Unfortunately, I had not had the wit to get back into my pyjamas after our last sexual encounter and, well... I succumbed once more to her licentious arts.