INT. HOME - DAY
FRONT DOOR OPENS AND CLARE ENTERS.
SHE: Do you want the good news or the bad news?
ME: The bad news.
SHE: I've stabbed myself with a screwdriver and I'll probably be out of action for a couple of weeks.
ME: And the good news?
SHE: We need to move Pepito immediately. The lower half of his field is flooded. Actually, it's more like a river.
ME: (GLAD I DIDN'T ASK FOR THE GOOD NEWS FIRST) Lunch is ready in ten minutes.
After looking up some new vocab (thumb muscle, screwdriver, stab, tetanus), and a relatively quick trip to "Urgences" in Bergerac, the river in Pepito's field has subsided and slowed and we are both looking forward to different types of single-handed work over the next couple of weeks.
Starting with... more fencing.