So there I was, sitting in the pub one long Winter's evening nursing my bitter shandy, when my neighbour started on about land prices. One thing led to another and, before I knew it, he'd offered me some very nice fields that adjoin us for £7,000/acre. I don't know what they are actually worth, either then or now - the truth, I suppose, is that they were, and are, worth that to me because of marriage value. The same may equally be said about my other neighbour, who wasn't in the pub that evening but might - perhaps - have jumped at the same offer that I cautiously refused. Or maybe he'd already declined it earlier. I don't know, either, how much my neighbour had had to drink before he made the offer. But I do know he wasn't drinking bitter shandy. Had I accepted the offer, and shaken hands there in the farmers' bar, would I be right to view it as binding on both of us the next morning? And what if Julie had said, when I told her what I'd done, that she wasn't wearing it?