After collecting Dee from swimming yesterday (she was very pleased after going underwater for the first time ... Donny Lido and ducking here we come) I pulled up outside my house to see an old man getting out of a taxi. "Alright?" I said. He turned on his heels and said: "No. Cost of living." I retorted with a "look on the bright side" at him and he responded with a load of bile in Welsh. Het turned the corner and was gone. Why did he not get the taxi to drop him off at his front door. Who was the mysterious pessimistic Welsh miserablist?