The Task at Hand

Returning home, later than usual, after my open mic night gig, the reason for this lateness became rather obvious - Mr. M was not there? You see, we tend to take for granted the things that certain friends always do and only when they are not present do we realise what they "bring to the table", as it were. At the end of evening, we said our goodbyes to our gracious host, Kendall, and walked outside to go home. Now, normally at this point, there would be a taxi waiting to whisk us off into the cold night air, bound for Home Sweet 'H', but, after standing outside for 20 mins, shooting the breeze, we all looked at each other and said "You know, we really should get a Taxi". None of us had number for a local firm and why should we? That is Mr.M's job! So, who rose to the challenge, who was the best man for the job, who was to be hailed as our Saviour? Why Miss F, of course! The fact that Miss F is actually Mr. M's wife is a point not entirely lost on the author.