Nailit. The dilemma. Winter, late night, pre-SatNav, on my way north, completely lost somewhere in the back waters of Stoke, small, very tired children in tow and, for me, panic beginning to get the upper hand. Ahhh .. a pub. Bundling children out of car and entering said pub, ‘Do you have rooms’, say I. ‘No’, says the landlady, ‘We only opened tonight… we’re still in a bit of a mess upstairs’. ‘Thank you, sorry to trouble you’, say I, bundling said children up again in readiness to exit pub and continue driving to who knows where. ‘Hang on’ says landlady, ‘If you don’t mind roughing it a bit, I can make beds up for you’. Do angels exist? Only in human form. God(?) bless ‘Stokians’. :o)