“He’s at it again!” Russ slammed the front door, trailing dirt through the hallway.

Barb sighed. She held a protective hand over the mirror on the wall until it stopped vibrating, and reminded Russ for the millionth time to remove his gardening boots in the porch.

But he was already stomping towards the kitchen. Barb followed and put the kettle on, waiting for both it and Russ to boil over. Meanwhile, she listened to the usual rant about how Ian at the allotment was jealous of Russ’s prize vegetable patch, and was obviously tampering with it, because his tools kept moving and his marrows weren’t growing at the expected rate. Yet Ian’s patch was thriving.