Wisdom

Daisy Duck's on the 'phone about a problem at Ducth Bend. We get it sorted as far as we ever get things sorted round here (which is to say that if we can't sort it out ourselves, or think of a way of working round the problem, we give up in despair). As it happens, we get it sorted.

"How's things with you?" I ask.

"Keeping me head down, just keeping me head down," she replies.

"That good?"

"Oh yes. That good."

I don't enquire. It's not like we haven't got a million-and-one flashpoints scattered around the borough. The only wonder is that they don't all go off in one big bang. Still, there's time, I guess.