He, to this day, still can’t remember us in London at New Year going to a cinema just off Trafalgar Square to watch this film.

I remember. Clearly. Behind us was an entire family and as the film started one of them dropped their mobile phone. Under my seat. Lights down, film rolling. ME standing up as about 10 people searched for the stupid phone.

He doesn’t even remember afterwards when we went to a tiny Italian restaurant for dinner and he ordered fishy linguine and/or how much crap I spat at him for ruining my own meal with a very fishy smell.

A few years later….time travel via Paul…and after a weekend he’d spent with his bezzie mate in Amsterdam (!?!) – his sister’s daughter had bought her mother two big spliffs from Cardiff via her best mate’s Dad.

Stay with me here, please ?

So. One weekend my traveller-in-crime came to stay with us for a few days (without her husband – father of said daughter )- who was then a serving South Wales Policeperson.

Neither she nor me had EVER done the Ganji thing. But Himself warned us.

You get the giggles. Then the munchies. Then fall asleep.

We larfed at him and said No Way, Pedro.

The three of us didn’t even finish one whole W.H. Spliffs.

To this day a bag of Tesco pretzels (the munchies vibe) are called Strepsils :o)