Brighton Pier in the 1970s. A couple walks along the pier on
a sunny afternoon and discusses dinner plans.
“Say, darling, what do you say to spending the evening out
with me tonight? It has been a quite some time since we were apart from the children.”
“Oh John, you know I’d love to. But who will care for the
children tonight? Charles needs his bath, you know. He’s filthier than a mud
puddle.”
“But Margaret, dear, perhaps your sister will be willing to
come by for the evening. I’m sure she would if you asked.”
“I’d best not trouble her again, John. She already does so
much.”
“You make a fair point, darling. But I’ll tell you what, if
I may. Why don’t I ask cousin Jack to come by? He’s a good lad, Jack is. He’ll
surely agree to it. What do you say? You’ll do this, won’t you Margaret?
“All right. I’ll chance it. I s’pose Jack is rather
responsible. Where would you like to spend the evening then, dear?”
Brighton Pier, 2013. A couple walks walks along the pier and
plans out their evening.
“Hey, love, do you fancy going out for a drink tonight?
Maybe some dinner too? We haven’t gone out without the kids in forever.”
“You’re right, Dave. But the kids need baths, and we don’t
have anyone with enough patience to look after them.”
“What about your sister? She’s always around.”
“She’ll say no, Dave. You know she will. Remember last time
when she looked after them? She couldn’t get the paint out of her hair for a
week. There’s a reason she doesn’t have kids of her own.”
“Fine. What about Damien? He owes us a favour after we let
him use the garage that one time. That sound good to you?”
“Yeah, okay. He does owe us, and I guess he’s old enough
now. Where were you thinking of going tonight?”


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