Ground ice slackens back to water, lurks in the shadow at the road's edge. The shape of these puddles always reminds me of crocodiles. So we drive home, by the reptilian lines, noticing the clouds that dampen our chances of viewing the Geminid meteor shower everyone is posting about on Facebook. Visible from all time zones, weather depending. Moods stay clear: new horizons are clear. We are close to owning three clubs (not nightclubs; not quite like that. Think sports club without a permanent venue.)
'Bude,' Mr says, 'Okehampton, Plymouth. BOP. Is that too cheesy, because that's what we do: bop!' (Mimes punch. Can't mime kick: is driving.)
I am laughing. Explain my answer. 'No, it’s funny.' In case he misreads the laugh as derisive.
The in-car focus group approves, so BOP Tae Kwon Do is invented.
This isn’t the grand unveiling, this is the initial, work in progress point.
Drive past the crocodiles, feeling brave.