So, why do men agree a time to pull pins and, when you are in that final, lo crucial, 15 minutes feeding the cat; knocking up soup for lunch; chucking some washing on; etc., etc., suddenly stick their heads in the cabin 12 minutes earlier than agreed announcing that they are leaving NOW, leaving you scrabbling for poo bags, dog leads and dogs, hopping up and down on the towpath with one boot on and no gloves to hand.
Why do men ask you where you want to moor and then give you at least 5 reasons as to why your choice is not a good idea.
Why do men, when asked to stick the washing in the tumble dryer at the next lock, insist on putting your best, non-tumble dryer top, in the tumble dryer so that it comes out too tiny to stretch round a size zero model.
He did finish off the dinner though whilst I was next door on Caxton nattering with Lesley (and open the wine).
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