Clive is a winner

'Was Dad drunk last night?'

It's Saturday morning. The boys are eating their breakfast. Ginny is flicking through The Daily Telegraph nursing a large cup of strong Yorkshire Tea in one hand. She gazed at Ben: 'What gave you that idea?'

'He was singing in the driveway and he kept dropping his keys on the garden path. It woke me up,' said Ben.

'And me,' said Jake.

'Yeah, I wish you parents could control yourselves when you go out,' grunted Nick.

It's true Clive was a bit noisy when he was poured out of the taxi onto the pavement outside The Green House.

Clive had a small wager on Kicking King. He bet just one pound on Betfair at odds of 1000 to 1. Kicking King romped home in the Cheltenham Gold Cup. Clive had won ONE THOUSAND POUNDS! Hurray! General rejoicing. Clive phoned Ginny from the course to tell her the glad tidings.

'About time you had a winner,' was her muted response.

'We're going into Cheltenham with some of the lads, don't keep any dinner for me, Bye.'

I think Clive had had a liquid dinner. Ginny heard him fumbling at the door with his keys and let him in. He stood swaying ever so slightly. 'Hello Ginny,' he looked rather sheepish. Then he dashed for the downstairs loo. The sound of seven pints of Guinness hitting the pan not something I'd like to hear every day. Ginny, very silently and ominously, marched Clive into the children's playroom where she had already made up the sofa bed (I think she's done this before) and lay him down to sleep it off.

Today is going to be a very quiet day in The Philpott household.