Declining my offer of cereal, pannini and scrambled eggs on toast, Wilson announced that he had invented a hangover cure which he has named Splashdown, which he and Byron were about to test.
It seems to be one of the Rules Of Life that the older one gets, the more tablets one needs to take each day – year by year the number of prescription capsules and tabs I neck each day seem to increase alarmingly…
I noticed Wilson queasily observing me as I downed the first phase of my day's supply of medication.
'Woah!' he exclaimed, 'you'll never catch me taking that many tablets – I'll just stick with my Splashdown Hangover Cure…'
Drawing closer, his lips moved silently as he tried to pronounce the unfamiliar and outlandish names of the drugs.
Byron asked, 'Excuse me, Wilson's New Dad, but who makes up these weird names?'
'Somebody at the Drug Company, I suppose,' I replied, adding, 'I once read that giving a drug a good name is nearly as difficult as inventing the drug in the first place!'
I thought I saw Wilson smile approvingly at Byron – but I was probably mistaken.
Both lads downed their Splashdowns, grimaced, gathered up Antony, TT and Pterry between them and wandered off looking thoughtful – something which, I have come to learn, rarely bodes well…
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