I’m intrigued by this scene which crops up many times as a theatrical device in TV and film dramas.  You know what I’m talking about; the couple have had a blazing row and the woman clutches a handful of dresses from the wardrobe, stuffs them into a suitcase she’s thrown on the bed and storms off out of the house.

I just can’t see it happening, myself.

In our house, for instance, Our Gert would send me into the loft for the suitcase.  I’d pass her the wrong one down so she’d send me up again for the right one.

“GET THAT SPIDER OFF IT” she’d scream in a hissy fit.

Then, a few minutes peace for me as I’d retire downstairs to watch “Final Score”.  Meanwhile, Our Gert would be trying on dresses and carefully folding them into piles of those that fit and those that don’t.

“What do you think about this one?” she’d shout down at me just as Bob Danvers-Walker started “League Division 2”.  Up I’d go and have to watch the fashion parade for the next hour or so as she repeatedly asked and then ignored my advice on “Do these shoes go with this?” or “Skirt and top or frock?”, all of which would be interrupted by the sit-down-test where she’d sit on the bed and look sideways into the mirror to see if her belly looked too big.  You get the picture?

Then I’d have to lug the case downstairs and put it in the back of the car.

Of course, the whole concept sits on a false premise anyway.  It would be me being kicked out.