We were going for a walk when, just outside the front gate, George started dragging his feet.
'Wassup?' I said (because I'm down with the kids).
George shook his head then said, 'Are you seriously going to take me for a walk when you're dressed like that?'
I glanced down. 'What's the matter with my clothes?'
'Your cardigan is six inches - no, make that ten inches - below your shorts. You look an idiot.'
He had a point but I wasn't going to admit that.
'Well, Mr Style Guru, you're going to have to put up with it cos I'm not changing. Anyway we're only going over the tip; we won't see anyone. Except maybe the guy who sleeps out there and is almost certainly worse dressed than I am.'
'That's debatable but anyway we have to walk along the road first.'
'Get over it!'
George continued to try and put as much distance between us as he could - which wasn't much as he was on his lead and he didn't talk to me again until much later - more to follow.