Suddenly, spring is in the air. It’s mid-February and there may well be further cold snaps ahead, but on the walk to my bus stop this morning, the earth is awakening from its slumber. There are purple crocuses out and a blackbird flies past with twigs in his beak: nest-building is underway. And so, my thoughts turn to boys. They do call it ‘the mating season’, after all.
This week is all a bit uncertain dating-wise. MediaChap – possibly. Seb – possibly. And that’s it. No fresh blood at all. Can’t really arrange anything else until know:
1. Whether am meeting MediaChap tomorrow night and if not then, when.
2. Which day Seb is coming: he said ‘towards the end of the week’ but need him to confirm. Thursday is best as Friday 6.10pm have to see my breast surgeon and have plans Saturday (theatre). Sunday is OK too.
They had better not both choose the same day. Really the best plan is MediaChap on Wednesday then Seb on Thursday which leaves Friday free for parentals, breast surgeon and orange cuddles with the fluffy monster.
Ah, the buzz of a text message. It’s Seb. “Lancaster was good, whole few days was very nice. Thursday is an option. Would that be better than the weekend? xx”
“Thursday is best. Or Sunday,” I reply.
“OK. Thursday sounds best then,” Seb replies.
“Great xxx” I say.
So that’s one of them sorted out. Just MediaChap to go…
*Seb appeared in this play at drama school.
Scars, Tears and Training Bras 