In an exciting change to my routine, Hannah is meeting me at the gym. Am waiting on my exercise bike. The sky is blue again.
Things that need to do before Seb arrives sometime-between-six-o-clock-and-midnight:
1. Put at least two washes on, a dark one and a white one.
2. Hang them up.
3. Make and eat lunch.
4. Have meeting at 1.30pm.
5. Have another bath and deal with furry bits.
6. Improve appearance of face.
7. Lose a stone.
8. Prepare dinner.
10. Tidy bedroom a bit. Some holiday items still not put away.
11. Pack up all the wigs – yay! Am not wearing them anymore and they drape themselves along my shelves – a colony of languid birds, taking up far too much space.
1.34pm. My phone buzzes. Woohoo it is a message from my Seb:
“You’ll have to look after me tonight. Literally been at my desk since 3pm yesterday! Looking forward to it though. Will be taking train by the way. Out of care for other drivers. See you in not too long.”
Don’t reply as am going in to a meeting. But I always look after my boy, I think. Of course I’ll look after him. Will even make him an omelette.
Then at three o’clock, another message comes through. It’s Seb again: “Right, finished, will just race into college to print and hand in and I’ll be on my way.”
“Yay can’t wait to see you. Brilliantly well done xxx,” I say, thinking that it’s a shame he doesn’t have a printer attached to his three computers in his flat. Wonder why not.
Anyway, he ought to be on his way soon: his flat is about thirty minutes from his college. He ought to be here by seven o’clock anyway. Have washed and brother is hanging up the washing. Flat more or less tidy. Have even applied some make-up and thrown a dress on.
Happy Friday everyone!
*1932. By Stuart Palmer. A Hildegarde Withers mystery. Set in 1932 Manhattan, an eccentric schoolteacher turns detective.
Scars, Tears and Training Bras 