The promise of steam

You'll be relieved to know I didn't burn the dinner, although I did chuck more wine into the Bourgignon than I should have. I figured it would calm my nerves while I ate. That's debatable, of course, but it certainly gave the beef an indescribable colour.

I was so nervous, I let the men do the talking while I concentrated all my efforts into serving the food without tipping half of it over the cloth (or down myself), but quite honestly, nobody was watching anything I did, as it soon transpired that our good friend and neighbour, Seb Lancashire, had a passion for trains that could only be equalled by my dear Martin's; a subject that bewitched the pair of them and kept their focus away from me and firmly fixed on ashpans and bogies for the rest of the evening.

Before we knew it, we were sitting on garden chairs outside the back door, watching the bats swooping in from the trees and listening to the gurgling of the stream, while we cooked up our own plans for a turn 'on the chuffers'.

As the boys continued in their animated style, I sat back with a glass of wine, feeling the lightest of breezes on my face, and smiled happily into the gloaming.