I went out for a drink one night, i'd normally walk at week-ends, but during the week i drove, the inn was a 25-minute walk away. Too long during the week.

I had two glasses of Port, at that time i could consume a bottleful, or a gallon or so of beer - and still roll a cigarette with ease, so i was by no means drunk. As i was leaving the inn, Derek - a work-mate - was arriving, it was around 10:15 on a Wednesday night.

My car wouldn't start, not even a click from the solenoid. The only time it ever let me down. We buggered about with the starter, and finally pushed the car onto the road to bump-start it. It started with no problem. It's always easier if one sits in the seat whilst others push.

When i reached the bottom of Saxtead Straight - a mis-nomer if ever there was one - i switched the engine off while still rolling, so that if it would'nt start on the starter i could drop the clutch. I wanted to know if i'd have to get up early to go to work in the morning. It started instantly with the key.

When i went downstairs in the morning, Mum commented that i was late home last night. I was usually home around 10:30. I said no, i'd left the Volunteer around five and twenty past ten, she told me that i got home around quarter to twelve, as they were going to bed.

I hadn't noticed anything odd. It was someone else that noticed the time difference.
It cannot be confusion over the times, Derek wouldn't be going out for a drink at 11:15 on a Wednesday night, they closed at 11pm.
Well, some did.

I have no explanation.