Once Wilson had confessed that he was replete, if not actually stuffed full, I paid the bill and we made our way back to the car.
Perhaps it was the excitement of his birthday, perhaps it was the busy day, perhaps it was the bottle of Chianti he consumed over dinner – whatever it was, he slept soundly for the whole journey back to Uckfield.
When we arrived I lifted him out of the car, still snoring gently, and popped him into his tumble dryer without waking him.
I just hope he hasn't got a hangover tomorrow...
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