Startling the Horses

I decided I had just enough time for a quick shower before Inge de Bruin arrived at my place for dinner. (No, I didn't cook. A quick trip to the shops netted me a gourmet pie, a salad and a Vienetta.) I was busy getting myself into a lather - in the shower - when there was a knock at the door. Hastily wrapping a towel around me I rushed to open it, assuming it was Inge arriving early.

I had the idea to hurl the door open, fling one arm up in the air and trill, "Ta daaaa!" but something stopped me at the last minute. Some might attribute it to common sense, but you can't use what you don't have. Nevertheless, the door was still opened with quite a flourish only for me and one of Fremantle's mayoral candidates to find ourselves face-to...er...face.

Both of us were instantly covered in a fog of embarrassment and confusion which he tried to address by shoving a pamphlet in my damp hand and I tried to respond to with an attractive, braying laugh and squawking, "Oh, I thought you were someone else."

It was all very unsatisfying. Each of us came away from the encounter without knowing if we'd got the other's vote.