Morningstar Manor

Ricky was sitting on a deck chair, trying not to freak.

He'd been swimming, in his shorts -- decent dark baggy shorts with Snoopy on! -- and suddenly, he'd felt something like little fishies nibbling his privates.

He'd been out of the pool like greased lightning! He only liked to have his privates nibbled under controlled conditions. If he knew who was doing the nibbling, for one thing, and if it was somebody he quite liked to nibble back.

No spontaneous drive by nibbling in the middle of the pool, by anonymous little fishies!

Only when he sat on the deck chair and stared back into the pool did Ricky realise that of course there were no little fishies in the Manor pool.

So not cool!

Hemp shopping bags were Charlie's latest 'thing'. Heavy duty, hard wearing and ecologically friendly - so he had one on each shoulder stuffed to the brim with groceries and was glad to put them down for a moment in order to empty his mailbox.

Junk, junk, junk, bill, junk, bill, bill, letter from Joanie, bill, junk, postcard from Tom, bill junk.