It’s 5.15pm. My phone buzzes.
“It did take me a little longer than I’d hoped, but I’m on a train on my way to you. Do you have gin? Xxx,” the message says. It’s from Seb, obviously.
“Ah well done! Yes, of course I do. What time does train get in and where?” I say. “Would love some skimmed milk and some Red Bull Zero. And maybe a bottle of wine.”
“Sure thing,” he replies. “I’m not sure, to tell the truth. Typical, eh! Looking forward to arriving.”
“Me too xxx.” I say. Oh, how I look forward to getting past the long stretch of the evening that will spend waiting for him. On the plus side, very much on the plus side in fact, he has made it onto a train. So must stop worrying about something befalling him before he arrives. Maybe will watch my television for a bit.
Really, I think, as I stare at the clothes drying on the airer, one ought to be rewarded for punctuality. It is an admirable thing, to be on time, not to be late. And yet, if anything, one is penalised for being on time for things. The hundreds of hours I must have spent by now, pacing up and down theatre foyers, train platforms, restaurant receptions – waiting for people who are running late. Maybe will receive my reward in the next world. Will be arriving there several years early. Ought to get a good seat for whatever entertainment will be happening there.
So, all I have to do now is move the airer into the spare room and tidy up and make some supper. Exhausted.
Miss my fluffy monster. On a normal weekend, would be going to see him, but not this weekend. Or maybe will visit him on Sunday when Seb has departed.
“Don’t drink too much before he gets here,” brother says as he leaves the house. Helpful.
Staring at the clock, and at the bottle of gin, I turn away from both these devices to concentrate on my Important Writing.
Am expecting the diversion of a phone call from Lily anyway whilst am preparing supper.
Happy Friday evening everyone!
*2013. By Jeanne Cooney: “a murder mystery novel with recipes.”
Another new genre that have just discovered. Yum!