It was all downhill from there.

For quite some time it seemed that the only thing we had to do this weekend was spend some quality time with my friend Chestnut and her family at a Sunday arvo barbie - and Grumpy was perfectly satisfied with this arrangement. Then my step-sister, Cinderella, wanted to see us at lunch time on Saturday and then QEII announced she'd be coming up Saturday night for a birthday dinner (hers). And all of a sudden Grumpy, who'd been dreaming of some quality time with televised rugby, was getting all over-socialised and hot under the collar.

As we drove northward on Sunday the following conversation ensued:

"That does it, I'm going to start organising activities on the weekend. I'm going make sure my weekends are chockers with activities."

"But you hate activities!"

"Yes, but at least I'll have some control over my life. Not have my weekends planned by you."

"You know, there's nothing wrong with occasionally getting out and about and spending time with other people."

"Why do you say yes to all these things anyway?! Why don't you just tell these people you've got other things to do. You have got other things to do you know. You haven't done your tax return yet."

"I'm not going to say, 'Sorry, can't make it, have to stay at home and do my tax return.'"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a maldicion miserable bastard."