THE LAST SUPPER

I didn't want yesterday's incident at the car park to spoil Byron's last day with us, so I refunded all the dissatisfied visitors to Wilson's Motor Museum myself and let the boys keep their somewhat ill-gotten gains.

Then, following a large and elaborate dinner, cooked by W and described by him as The Last Supper (I picked all the ants out of mine, but I did it subtly, so as not to cause offence) he and Byron spent their final night sleeping in the washing machine.

This morning Byron was preparing to return to the zoo the way he had arrived – on the bus – but burdened as he was by his Xmas presents, gifts for his family, left-over food etc, I insisted on taking him in the car.

I must say, the house is going to seem very quiet without the sounds of him and Wilson shouting, laughing, wrestling and generally getting into mischief – I hope W doesn't feel too lonely without him here...