Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

“There is a god…”

My tormentor grinned ecstatically. Though quite why he feels the Good Lord should choose to manifest proof of His existence in the tortured screams of a perfectly good hobbit, I do not know. My son, however, was enjoying himself.

I had walked the dog, done a little housework and answered the overnight emails before arriving at my son’s home at eight. A few minutes later I was applying massage to his aching carcass… the self-inflicted pummelling he had given his body the night before had taken its toll and he was sore.

“You can thump me,” he had offered. The temptation, of course, is great. He generally gives me ample reason to take him up on such an offer. Sadly, however, he was referring to The Thumper, a heavy duty muscle massager that comes into its own the morning after the night before… when the night…