The flat phone rings. Picking it up, I say “Hello.”
“Hello my lovely,” Seb says.
I can’t believe that it’s him. “Are you calling me from the jungle?” I say.
“Yes, I might run out of credit but I wanted to call you and say hello,” he says. The line crackles, it’s not a good signal, but he’s calling me, which is amazing.
“Have you seen any clouded leopards?” I say.
“It’s the rainy season here so there’s not much wildlife around except leeches,” he says. “Oh, and bats.”
“Thank you so much for calling,” I say. “The hospital called to say that I haven’t got cancer in my spine, so that’s something.”
“Oh good,” he says.
“Are you having a nice time?” I say.
“The meditation’s going really well,” he says. “I miss you, lovely.”
And then the line goes dead. He must have run out of credit. Am so happy that he called though.
Am at the parentals now, awaiting the arrival of the fluffy monster. The panther lies next to me on the sofa, his head resting on his front paws.
“Seb won’t come back,” he says. “And if he does, he’ll get a new girlfriend. One who isn’t so fat.”
“You’re probably right, Panther,” I say. “You’re early though: I wasn’t expecting you for another month or so. I was hoping to spend a few weeks with Seb before you arrived and…”
“Well, here I am,” the Panther says, sharpening his claws on the sofa. “You can hardly reject my company: at least I’m here. Unlike your boyfriend. If he even still is your boyfriend. Which I doubt.”
This is an unwelcome development. Am not ready for the Panther…
Attached photo is a Sopwith Triplane from the First World War in the Air exhibition at the RAF Museum. Went there today with Mum.
Happy Wednesday everyone!
*1894. By Rudyard Kipling.