My lately departed Father was a master of the argument, and was wont to start one in the quiet of the evening. He would pose a question, one of us kids would respond, my Mother would leave the room rolling her eyes, and my brother would sound the clarion call, "And the game is on" or "Women and children downstairs, Now!"

But Dad had a philosophy that went with a good argument. "Good friends come and go, but enemies accumulate".

I sometimes think that now the thunder in the evening means Dad just pissed off a Saint...