At one point he actually thought that if it can be proved to be directly the cause, then he would have sued.
Compensation culture occupied a sizeable piece of his mind, but he was rather apprehensive about it, and had not yet made a firm decision, but that decision was, he guessed, that he would do nothing about it because if he failed, it would be rather embarrassing.
There was a small cupboard next to the fridge that stored various paraphernalia, such as a mop and bucket, pieces of carpet, and bottles of bleach.
Old shoes cluttered the bottom, amongst them his holiday flip-flops which he fumbled around for, and slipped on.
The key was already in the back door, and he unlocked it, tightened his gown around him, and stepped out into the freezing night.
The wind pushed him off balance immediately and he staggered across his limestone patio onto the lawn towards the shed which was still banging away as if a naughty child was constantly kicking a football against it.
His emerging bald patch he was sure was down to work, down to stress.
You see, when 2 first borns get married to each other, they tend to be in control of each other due to the fact that they -look after- their little siblings. If 2 younger ones marry each other, it's like having 2 babies fighting over things. So, it's best for the Eldest to get the Youngest.
If I marry another younger one, it's going to be no give and take.
He lay in his bed, in the darkness, facing the window, the warmth of the duvet cocooning him like a caterpillar.
Rain lashed the window, and thunder rumbled away in the distance, but the shed door continued to bang away in the wind, and his mind told him that this weather was not going to go away anytime soon.