The egg went to Liverpool again, today.
The PR Secretary has ruled that the egg cup is too large.
So now, the egg balances precariously on a tiny eggcup.
The ride to work tomorrow may be a little fraught.
A friend in the village saw the egg, on the bike, in the car park by the shops tonight. He assures me that this behaviour does not, in any way, suggest any degree of eccentricity on my part.
Wish the egg well, it may die tomorrow...
On another note, I am teaching pursuit this week. The radio alert at the start of a pursuit is "Scramble, scramble".