Going off with my mates for a walking weekend to the Gower. I tried to disguise the fact that I'd brought too much stuff by keeping my main suitcase small but putting walking gear and provisions in several carriers that clustered round my suitcase like satellites round the mother ship.
This meant that when Carol and Caroline came to pick me up I had to make two trips between my front door and Caroline's car boot.
It was in between the first and second trips that The Incident occurred.
I returned to see a pool of red wine seeping out of one of my bags onto the road.
At nine in the morning my cul-de-sac was heavy with the scent of fair-trade merlot while a stain reminiscent of Silent Witness spread a surprisingly long way across the road.
None of us recalled clacking the bottle so there may have been a weakness in the glass.
Being practised domestic goddesses we sprang into action and had the puddle cleaned up in no time. Before my neighbours confirmed their worst suspicions about me.
And would the loss of the merlot ruin our weekend?
Not a chance. I had a second bottle in one of my other bags.
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