As he washed up the dinner plates, my hero noted the absence of the pink gingham mug. OK, he referred to it as the “red tartan mug”, but hey, even heroes aren’t colour and fabric specialists. It was surely down to me, for undoubtedly, the pink gingham mug was sitting on my worktable in the studio growing mould or something horrid, so I scooted downstairs to try to find it before he did.
It wasn’t on my worktable.
It wasn’t even in on my desk, in the laundry or on a windowsill. I looked.
I wondered if it was out in the garden and by way of killing two birds with one stone, decided to head out through the garage, where my eye fell on one of the shelves.
Well, who’d have thought it?
Even heroes put their tea in funny places
