We went to Tumble today, to pick up an electric room heater, built like a wood-burning stove with a jolly good flame effect for those long wet Welsh Sundays and a fan heater for emergency heating.
“Bloody perverse lot, the Welsh,” I said, driving home.
“Why? What’s wrong now?”
“Who else would name a town as if it’s a verb?”
“Ah. See what you mean. Have we time enough to stop for coffee?”
PS: It was a temporary imbalance of my diuretic, nothing more. Told you I wasn’t sick. [But... thanks for the good thoughts and wishes... 
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