After a morning watching Will play football on one of those exposed fenland pitches with a permanent Force 9 cross-wind, I settled down in my office for a bit of light copy-editing. Mid-afternoon I took snacks to the workers down at the fields. Mac was spending the afternoon waging war with nettles. Will was meant to be helping, but was driving my car round the field at top speed when I got there. I'm not sure how that was helping control the nettles; perhaps he was going to run them over one by one?