Mr Mucus

THREE fried breakfasts in three days - that's not the way to good health and fitness.
But that's just the way it was, and three of J D Wetherspoons' finest veggie fry-ups have found their way into me.
The first came at the Richard Hopkins in Newton Abbot before a round of golf with the Caerphilly Kid and his brother at Dainton. The eggs were a bit too well done, but otherwise it was good. The golf was good, too. The handicapping was generous, which meant I finished between the Caerphilly Kids. My finest moment came on the 17th, where I took four hacks to get out of the bunker, and the fourth dispensed with the formality of putting and rolled straight into the hole.
The second fry-up was on more familiar ground at the Isaac Merritt where the eggs were much better. It was A-Level results day and Younger Daughter had done the business. We celebrated with Mr Fangio and the Caerphilly Kid, who were already there having one of their high-powered business meetings.
The following morning Older Daughter, who had been working the previous day, decided she had missed out, so we went back to the Isaac Merritt for more. The eggs were good again, and Mr Mucus sat down at the table next to us, nursing an early-morning pint. He coughed a lot, sneezed, blew his nose noisily, coughed, sneezed and made that noise that comes with a big snort into the back of the throat.
Feeling a bit queasy, we left Mr Mucus to his pint and shifted to a quieter table. Later Mr Mucus got into a row with someone. It seemed a bit early in the day to be getting into rows, but Mr Mucus was ready for anything.