We drove home to Uckfield via Brighton Marina, to avoid the city traffic, and stopped off there so Wilson could have another hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.
On our way to the restaurant Wilson noticed the Brighton Walk of Fame: a series of granite plaques set into the pavement, each honouring a celebrity who had some sort of tenuous link with Brighton. We strolled the length of the walk, reading the plaques and W occasionally asking me who someone was.
'You used to live in Brighton didn't you, New Dad?' Wilson asked me. I confirmed that I'd lived there for most of my life.
'And now you're my New Dad?' I smiled and nodded.
'Yet I'm not listed amongst these so-called celebs!' he cried. 'They include this Victorian alleged paedophile, yet they exclude me! Something's going to be done about this…'
Oh dear. I can feel a campaign coming on.
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