So we’ve been on another little break, Ange and I, and have come home in a state of being blissfully relaxed. Four nights in a log cabin near the Yorkshire Coast with a wood fired hot tub, plenty of wine, and BBQ food. It was heavenly, it truly was. We saw all sorts of wildlife, which made Ange’s visit, and I didn’t need pain relief at any time which I always find with a hot tub. It soothes my muscles like nothing else can.

If only I could get one on the NHS…

Anyway, we’re back home now and it’s back to business, which for me is starting the next Joe Wilkie adventure. But, before I get on with that, I’d like to draw your attention to not one but two rather strange phenomena that happened on our mini break.

The first one was a meteorological phenomenon, which I’m sure any self-respecting weather man could explain away in a few words but to us it was so strange.

On the Saturday there had been a stiff breeze blowing all day. We didn’t mind it; quite welcomed it actually. It was coming in off the coast and so it was refreshing in the way that only coastal winds can be.

Then, around six o’clock in the evening, we had a short thunderstorm. Nothing too startling – the odd rumble of sound, occasional flash of sheet lighting and some rather large raindrops. We waited inside the cabin until it passed, which wasn’t long at all really.

When we came out, after it was all over, that’s when the phenomenon happened!

What had been a robustly windy day had, in fifteen minutes, turned into the stillest evening I can ever recall. There wasn’t even so much as a breath of wind. Nothing! Just total stillness. No movement in the trees, no birdsong. It was almost eerie in how it had transposed from a swift breeze to absolutely none at all. Very weird.

Like I say, I’m sure there’s a positively simple and normal explanation for it but what I can say is that it enabled us to have our first BBQ of the weekend. I mean; I’ve heard of the calm before the storm but not after one.

The second phenomenon was a rather more lavatorial one.

Now, at home, my aging bladder calls on me to go to the throne room at least once every hour. I accept it, as a man fast approaching sixty years of age, to come with the territory. In fact, I can’t even enter our kitchen for anything without a sudden urge to run to cludgie (as they say in Scotland) and relieve myself.

Too much information?

Sorry, but it’s necessary, as you will discover.

The strange thing over the hot tub weekend was that my trips to the loo were reduced to just about three times a day and I can’t think why. I was drinking wine and coffee and beer and lots of water (one needs to stay hydrated in a hot tub) and eating loads of fruit. And yet, only a few khazi calls. Now why is that?

I do have a couple of theories, the best of which being that in the hot tub you do actually sweat, believe it or not, and so I may have held onto a lot of fluid that way via water retention. Perhaps it was my body’s way of saying I needed to hang on to some of my water.

I don’t know, but what I do know is that the moment we arrived home my bladder was back to its old self and the hourly flushing fanfare recommenced.

It was bizarre. If anyone knows a reason for it then I’d like to hear it so please do drop a comment below.

Now then, Mr Wilkie is in all sorts of bother again so I’d better get back and see what he’s up to. Expect a progress report soon. Also, don’t forget to buy BEASTIE and leave me a review when you’ve read the marvellous thing.