Seeking only to chill, I mount up what looks to be a dry stone wall, in a similar to Welsh fashion.
Innocently, I consume my beer and view village affairs as they unfold in front of me from the relatively secure outpost atop the stone wall.
Not appreciating the precariousness of its construction, I turn to view a passing truck unbalancing one of the corner stones and sending the wall crashing into the road along with my humble self much to the amusement of some female onlookers who have been hanging out by the shop.
Once more I have the whole village’s attention.
Menfolk approach, I recede into a beard stroking stance shrugging and gesticulating at the fallen wall in what I think will be a conciliatory tone.
“Ahh yeh, I was just drinking my beer”.
You know the one.
Down in one.
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