Wilf arrived chez Weaver at 11am replete with a bottle of Cabernet Merlot and a bunch of mixed stems. I welcomed him in and introduced him to Mother who provided him with a cordial welcome, which was good considering the circumstances. Despite leaving tempting food instead the shed, we couldn't summon Father's prescence, but I'm sure he'll be available to meet Wilf at a later date.
We ate a pot roasted chicken for lunch. The wine flowed and Mother particularly enjoyed hearing stories about Wilf's parents' garden folly which is growing higher by the month apparently. Mother had prepared dessert: a Bird's trifle with extra dream topping, which went down very well.
At 3:30pm Mother decided to go for her daily constitutional in nearby Parveyvale Park, so after we'd washed up the last of the plates, Wilf led me upstairs to my bedroom. Despite only having a single bed, allied to the discomfort of frolicking on candlewick, Wilf managed to retain his normal standard of lovemaking, although Bagpuss's diapproving looks from the shelf put him off of his stroke a bit, so all was well until we heard a key in the front door....
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