The Boy and I have been on a mission - we've been helping a friend set up home; a role with which I'm sure you are familiar.
It involves furniture, a van, lots of lifting and a mountain of cardboard; at least that's what most people would assume unless they are familiar with peculiar orbit The Boy takes when a new - more interesting - task supersedes the previous one.
We're in Devon, so there was no surprise when I drew the van up outside the new house, carefully backed up to the back gate, opened the van's rear doors, and it began to rain. 'Never mind,' I thought to myself, it just means The Boy and I will have to work that much faster to unload the van and get everything inside.
As if on cue, The Boy arrived and got stuck in.
Back and forth we went, carrying boxes, furniture and the objet d'art associated with the home.
The first sign that our game plans were on different trajectories struck me as I trudged through the back garden carrying a heavy box.
You may notice the use of the first person singular in the last sentence.
It appeared the team unloading the van to the accompaniment of pattering rain had been reduced to one...
The next thing that struck me as I made my way back through the garden to the van, was that the sound of the rain had now been joined by the splattering of the fountain in the pond in the back garden.
Those of you familiar with The Boy will be reading the warning signs already.
As I returned with the next box, the sound of the rain and the fountain had been joined by a waterfall. Shortly after the grey Devon light was brightened by the illumination around the pond.
The Boy emerged from the garden shed.
"Have you got a hose?" he asked.
Having established that the man carrying the box in the rain wasn't actually able to help, The Boy moved swiftly on to the Two Ronnies' sketch - "Have you any hose; no, "Os" - Mon Repose..." - before turning his attention elsewhere.
While I carried on with the task in hand, The Boy surprised the new neighbours by not asking for the traditional cup of sugar, but a water pump and a trowel.
A little later, armed with a bucket, a length of hose and having miraculously turned the fountain into a water pump, The Boy rescued two fish.
We both bent down, studied them and agreed that The Boy's intercession had probably saved them as it was a surprise that two fish had survived in the muddy, stagnant water.
Having christened them "Happy" and "Lucky" The Boy returned to his task of making their home as comfortable as possible; while I returned to doing the same for our friend.
Now, I don't know whether or not you are familiar with Penn and Teller, but there's a trick Teller performs where he dips his arms into a bucket of water and more and more fish keep appearing.
It was the same with The Boy and the muddy mess at the bottom of the pond. Each time I passed more fish had appeared.
"You know we said it was a surprise there were two fish alive in the water?" The Boy asked as the sun broke through the clouds.
"Well, I've now got eighteen!" he said.
As I carried the last box from the van, I came across The Boy sitting beside the pond which was now filling with clear water feeding through the hose borrowed from the neighbours.
"I'm just letting the sun dry my legs," he said, proudly surveying the clean pond "I'll be able to give you a hand in a moment."