The hotel has another coach party. Over breakfast it looked like the cast of Michael Jackson's thriller shuffling round looking for food that didn't need to be chewed. The Gorse Fox queued for some fruit and yoghurt and sat back down.
A youngster in the party (probably only 75 or 80) chirped up "I see they have black pudding today. That's instead of marmalade."(*) The little old women all collapsed in squeals of girlish laughter. That was a signal to the Gorse Fox that it was time to leave whilst he retained a modicum of sanity and he still had control over his urge to throw things.
(*) That's a phrase you don't hear every day.
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