"I don't care what it was; I'm just sick and tired of it all. What was the last 'nice' present you gave me that wasn't a game?"

"I gave you that pet!"

"Yes, and it was made in Japan and it died when the batteries ran out".

"Okay, okay; we'll do something nice tomorrow then. Why don't we go boating?"

She flung her arms about me, delighted. "Do you really mean it?"

"Yeah, yeah.... now gerroff! I haven't finished this level yet".


Monday

I thought it went off rather well, but she didn't seem to see it that way: she just stood there dripping wet in the middle of the island hugging herself and repeating in a curiously monotone croak: "We are not here... this is not happening..."

"Don't worry, dear. The rescue craft and frogmen will be along shortly," I reassured her, surveying with approval the splintered peddlelow named 'Daisy' which was slowly sinking before us. "And besides," I said, glancing at out own craft, which now resided nose first in some bushes to our left, "we got off without a scratch".

"I don't care, I've had enough of this holiday. I'm going home".

"But we've only just got here!"

"What on earth possessed you to ram them, anyway?"

"She cut me up!"

"But they both must been over 80 years old for goodness sake! And we were in a fucking speed boat!"