The traffic across Westminster Bridge was only slightly better and then I saw the roadside sign that explained it—"Avoid All Roads In The King"s Cross Area. Major Disruption". I had missed seeing that the first time, wrapped in my thoughts of excuses. Now it was not an excuse I needed. I called Job on my personal radio. When he answered I could hear the laughter of women"s voices in the background.
“What"s going on?” I asked regretfully.
“Nothing really, Terry, I"ve just been telling the ladies a few of my jokes. Had them both in stitches. Are you going to be long, only Megan said that cottage pie will be out the oven by five-thirty? You"ve got thirty-five minutes. It smells divine, mate. My tummy"s rumbling already!”
Something in the air quality of Dulwich had metamorphosed Job into a
