“How are you getting on my darling?” The message comes through from Seb at 11.28am this morning.
“Yeah, great. Just packing. What’s the weekend weather forecast in your land?” I say.
“It’s really nice at the moment but I think it’s going to change later. What time do you think you’ll arrive here?” He says.
“11.30am/ 12pm? Will let you know when am setting off,” I say, sure that we’ve had this conversation a few times now.
“Haha silly me. I got confused about the day. Was expecting you today. Don’t know how I managed that. Anyway, see you tomorrow xxx” he says.
Don’t know how he managed that either. We’ve had several chats and text message exchanges referring to 28th, and Saturday. Think we talked about it yesterday in fact. Anyway: never mind. Seb doesn’t understand time I don’t think.
“Heh. You will have to wait till tomorrow am afraid,” I say.
“That’s OK. I can wait. See you tomorrow,” he says.
“Looking forward to it. This is such a good episode of Foyle’s War. Anthony Calf, Roger Allam, Anton Lesser and Foyle’s son is flying a Spitfire,” I say.
He is silly, I think. Anyway: going straight to his flat tomorrow so he doesn’t have to find anywhere and can just wait at home. The Easter egg is ostrich-egg-size and am making a separate food-and-drink bag. Think am more or less packed for the weekend at least. Would be good if weather was like this: warm and sunny. The forecast is not good though. Am going to wear dress, tights and boots so am not dragging trousers in puddles.
Gym opens at 8am on a Saturday so if am up and dressed can come here for an hour before setting off. Am, of course, at gym and not packing for holiday. Will be able to sleep in car on way. A bit anxious about getting out of my routine, missing three days of gym and so on. Will feel better once am on the way there. Hope there isn’t too much traffic and so on.
Wonder what food and drink Seb has in his house and what he is planning to do about meals. Have packed porridge, squeezy honey and Island mix (bag of raisins, dried pineapple and dried papaya) so don’t have to worry about what-to-do-for-breakfast. Can always just bring it home if he has amazing alternative breakfast plans.
Just had bath and went over shaved bits, whilst thinking: if only had waxed everything it would look nice for the weekend and even for holiday. My days of removing everything every six weeks are long gone. Waxed legs, underarms and bikini line every six weeks for fifteen years and then stopped six years ago. It’s only suddenly that have started to wish self was better cared for, now that have a Boyfriend.
Not that Seb minds, of course, which is the silly thing. He quite likes a bit of underarm hair anyway. “It’s more feral,” he says. Remember: he longs for the Dark Ages: living in a cave wearing animal skins and curling up at night with a pack of wolves.
Anyway: managed to paint nails whilst watching Foyle’s War. Show you. Photo attached. The smudged bits round the edges will come off in the bath.
Happy Friday night, everyone!
*1986. By Vernor Vinge. Time-travel murder mystery science fiction novel.