Remember remember the 5th of November.

Dave was having a blast. He was at his three year old god daughter's birthday party surrounded by all his old friends. Both of them.

He had arrived on time, around 12 noon, and spent the following 5 fun packed hours learning all about 'Dora the Explorer' and 'Laura's Star'. Children's programs, beneath his PhD intellect, though amusing none the less. Finally the host, her father, Dave's good friend Mac put something more mature on.

Totoro, one of the finest movies ever. About a giant fat teddy bear-like creature, who makes trees grow with an umbrella and drives around in a multi-legged cat-bus. Fantastic.

After the 5 hours, his second old friend arrived, completing the set. Five hours late for any normal person, Aline was actually early by her standards, with almost an hour to spare. The 4 of them chatted away together happily, the 3 year old leading the conversation and usually making the most sense. It was good.

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and Dave and Aline were soon driven back to there respective homes. Dave sat down with a sigh.

He had work to mark.

Spending Bombfire night marking a pile of student homework was not in channel 4's top 100 ways to have fun on saturday night. It didn't help that about 50% of them had clearly just duplicated the other 50%. It was soo obvious. Why couldn't they just all hand in one paper with all there names on it? That would save time and trees.

Things however, went from bad to worse.

Having finished his marking, it was time to collect his dear sweet wife from the station. She had spent the day in Manchester with an old friend of her own. She had called 20 minutes ago from her friends phone to say she was on her way and that she couldn't call again because her battery was dead. Fair enough.

An hour later, Dave was still waiting at the station.

'Tum tee tum, stupid trains.'

Another hour later, Dave was being kicked out of the station, "I'm sorry, no more trains are coming tonight."

Where the f*%$ was Jean?

"She must have gone home," he said outloud. Talking to himself outloud was a common sign of stress for Dave, not good. "She must have missed me somehow and gone home."

"But why hasn't she called? She could charge her phone if she's home."

Having missed the last bus he, very calmly and sensibly, ran like a bat out of hell untill his side split open and more.

"Where is she? Maybe she forgot her keys? She could have been locked outside, waiting for me to come home..."

He arrived back in record time. No sign.

He conntacted her friend from Manchester. No news.

Another hour passed. Then another. Still nothing.

He fell to his knees and prayed his heart out.

Then he called the police.

Thats when she walked in. "Are you calling the police?" she asked in an innocent surprised little way.

Women. Can't live with them, can't kill them.

Her train had been cancelled, she had been provided with a coach, but the coach had been a few hours late and very slow. Dave's sanity slowly reformed as he reverted back to his original statement.

'Stupid Trains.'

Jean was home, life was good.