The cold night rain still beat against the room's window, but went unnoticed as Wendy stared intently into the PC's screen. The forum talk was once more about Sheena's stroking trousers and serial airsteppers but a warm smile played on Wendy's lips. She sipped her drink again thought again what to do, as with the Xmas dances approaching what could she do about .......

.......her desperate need for more dances with Gus. Those orange trousers shone brightly in her memory - even more vividly than the kilt. Banishing those wicked thoughts momentarily to the back of her mind, she turned around as......

...the noise from something being posted through the letter box broke her from her reverie. Upon investigation it turned out to be a little model drummer girl in a plastic tube. 'Hmm' thought Wendy whimsically ' I dont remember ordering such Scottish touristy tat! Must be a joke thought up by...'

Jean- Claude - that wonderful French hunk she had met whilst in Paris, he played the drums in one of the local bands and loved to watch her, as she danced seductively in her little mini-kilt. Now her thoughts turned to those carefree youthfull days as she turned the small figure over and over in her hand. So lost was she, in this foreign land of long ago, that she didn't even notice.........

....the note dropping from the plastic tube. Eventually her daydreaming was interrupted by the phone ringing, and she went to answer it. It was Brady calling to ask if......

......she'd had anymore thoughts about that surprise visit back to gay Paris. On hearing the question, voiced in Brady's concerned tones, Wendy realised that nothing as trivial as Franck's last playlist was going to stop her reliving those wistful days and that ctastrophic night when she missed Jean-Claude, unknown to her, by those 5 fateful minutes. As if her guardian angel was throwing his last hand into the table, Santana's Flor d'Luna came on the radio and she thought maybe, just maybe....