My wallet, on the other hand was Sh***ing bricks.
Last Saturday, we were a little late getting into town and was further delayed in crossing the town centre by the presence of my favourite Blues busker, Slim Lightfoot. Consequently, when we reached this shop, stocks were running low on their early closing day. When I was made a fairly lucrative deal on some lemon and garden herb pork bangers, my mouth and stomach managed to operate my hand and arm all by themselves. A dozen fine sausages were mine.
Unfortunately, Saturday was hot. Damn hot. Not the sort of day you want to be wandering around with twelve bangers in your backpack.* So, all in jest, I said to Julie....
Yes folks, Reverend Spooner is alive and well and currently inhabiting my wife's body.
*Is it me, or would "Twelve bangers in your backpack" be an absolutely brilliant book or rock album title?