He knew that it was definitely frowned upon to get too frisky indoors (he could easily demolish a dining room table at his most boisterous).

But, no, there was no other conclusion possible this was definitely an invitation to tango. Well, anyway, Ebony stood up in his bed and had a good look around to make absolutely sure that he wasn't mistaken and that we were the only two there. I remember several years ago sitting at home in my lounge, unusually because I was feeling a bit groggy, talking to a client, Peter, who wanted some court interpretation organised. Fortunately, I knew Westbrooke quite well. No, he wasn't mistaken and this could only mean one thing I WAS TALKING TO HIM and this was an invitation to him to come and have one of our little rough and tumbles. He faltered momentarily as he considered the situation more deeply. "Fortunately", because we had a Great Judas at the time, Ebony (guess what colour he was), who weighed a little more than I did (and the bathroom scales cringed when they saw me coming!).

He accelerated out of his bed and in four bounds.