We've been warned we'll be disturbed but it's 10am and we're still lying on the inflatable mattress like beached wales. Clutching my throbbing head, I'm relieved my virtual nephews have been kept at bay. Having first woken an hour earlier, I could hear the excited cries of a six year-old ready to start his day.
Slipping in and out of sleep, I imagine my virtual brother and sister in-law instructing both boys to leave their Uncle Andy and Auntie Leo alone and to remain upstairs until they hear evidence of our waking. I've already snuck out for my morning bathroom visit and know the sound of the door is tempting fate. As if to confirm my suspicions, I hear a small voice chirp inquiringly: “Is it morning yet?”
Upstairs they're equally hung-over and unlike me have the added pressure of keeping an energetic child entertained and away from their slumbering guests. I wonder how long this amusing stand-off could last for if there wasn't a Liverpool match to return to Leeds for. Feeling as rough as I do, I visualise the entire family later watching TV with me still marooned on the air bed in the centre of their living room. Unfortunately there is a match and the stalemate is broken with The Boy's cheeky very English request for morning tea. As he finishes shouting up the stairs, cries of “Uncle Andy” are heard and our Sunday begins.