We drive across the Cambridgeshire plains, with the glow of the set sun still lighting up the west. Gemma turns in her seat to give the fading view her full attention, which makes me jealous as I am driving and can't really look, so I make comments on the standards of other people's driving to try and distract her.
My mind is quite busy though, and her being captivated allows me to cogitate on something she'd said earlier. I'd been being my usual amazing self, you see, when she said "You are like a dad. You know lots of things, and make really, really bad jokes." Is it wrong, I think to myself, that I took that as a compliment?
"Did you like that dinner?" I casually ask.
"Yes, it was really nice," she murmurs, still not looking round.
"It's just as well we ate when we did though," I say, "because I’m not at all hungry any more."
In my peripheral vision I see her face slowly drop into her hands.
"Ha!" I shout, triumphantly beeping my horn at a rather confused looking cow. "Ha!"