Angel and Jon came over to visit us last night, and they accompanied Sally and I on our second trip to the world of randomness that is the Hemingford Arms (don’t forget to close that window now!)

This time we sat in a different corner of the pub, further away from the comedy vaulting mannequin, but in a suitable spot to inspect the dangling accordions, assorted stuffed animals and classical statues with anachronistic headgear.

As well as offering me the chance to bump into the poshest person I knew at Bristol, someone I hadn’t seen for probably 4 years, navy Hugo, briefly released from his Plymouth-based submarine captivity, the pub also unexpectedly provided us with a short but challenging pub quiz. Our score was respectable, but didn’t trouble the leading teams. I think I will be back to try again.

Afterwards, I was slightly drunk. Which might explain the two stolen pint glasses in our kitchen this morning, and also the vivid dream I had in which I conceived an entire advertising campaign for digital radio to be shown on the BBC.