Day 67

Arthur was just about to sit down in his favourite comfy armchair and enjoy his Earl Grey but, and this happened in the majority of cases, as his posterior hovered tantalisingly above the comfy cushion, the command came.

“Arthur. Come here! Look at this photo. Does it look wrong to you? Here! Look at this sleeve!”

Years of servitude kicked in and Arthur dutifully put down his tea on the gleaming marquetry coffee table. Arthur was sure the table winked back at him.

Arthur lumbered across and peered at where Rosemary was pointing on the photograph.

“Well? Does that sleeve look wrong to you? Has it been doctored?”

Arthur held back a sigh. “I don’t think it has. If you look, Patrick simply has his arm around Pat’s waist.”

Rosemary peered even closer at the photo through her magnifying glass. There was a grumbling sound coming from her throat.

“Look, why don’t you take it to a proper photographer and see what they think?”

“Good idea!” (really Arthur? That’s a first!) “I’ll look up a photographer in Lincolnshire!” Rosemary beamed.

“Lincolnshire? Don’t they have any photographers in Yorkshire?”

Rosemary shook her head in despair at her husband. “You don’t think I want local people to know we are questioning our son’s marriage photo, do you? Of course, we need to go to a different county to be sure we are unanimous.”

“Anonymous,” Arthur breathed under his breath. But it was too late, Rosemary was up and scanning the small ads.