Thursday May 8, 2008
“Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Graham said when he called in the early hours.
I don’t much like this game. You lose whichever way you go. Even so, I played along: “I’ll have the good news, please.”
“Right. I think I made a mistake and told you it’d be Monday when I come home again. It’s not. It’s Sunday.”
“Oh, wow. That really is good news. Ok. I’m ready for the bad news now.”
“There isn’t any, not really. Unless you count the facts that I’m fed up with this lot and would rather be home.”
“I can understand the first. We can fix the second easy as easy. Shall I drive over now?”
Once we’d settled just how silly a suggestion that was we went on to dismiss my urge to go spend a couple of days on the cliffs. He can cope with me and Dolly. He can just about cope with the trannies. He gets doubtful at the thought of all of us together, though.
“I’m already getting all snappy,” he said. “Let’s leave it a few weeks.”
I’m a little disappointed. In compensation, though, there’s a heatwave blowing up and the caravan isn’t so comfortable when it’s really hot and especially when there’s a hot south-westerly wind blowing up with ambitions to become a sirocco.
“We’ll sit it out here, Dolly,” I said this morning as the house heated up.
She didn’t respond. Take energy, does a response, and Dolly’s go more sense than to waste energy.