Brian Beetle had to go to the garage today for a paint job. Younger Son, driving Betty, came with us so he could bring me home. Betty is parked in front of the garage so they went ahead. It was only as we were driving there that I wondered whether I'd told Younger Son that we weren't going to the usual garage but to a bodywork place.
I hadn't. As I turned off I tooted Brian's horn frantically. Well, like a frantic mouse. Squeak, squeakity, squeak. there was about as much chance of YS hearing it as me getting a strike in bowling.
Luckily Younger Son is smarter than I am and he noticed my manoeuvre even though a car had squeezed in between us.
If I had even an eighth of a brain I'd be grateful.