My sister’s flatmate had been cooking. Everywhere I looked there were sausages, either ready to eat on the table, or cooking under the grill or in frying pans. Then my sister discovered that her own sausages were missing. The flatmate offered to ‘put it on her bill’ but I was really cross. “You stole her Saturday sausages!”, I yelled.
I went back to work after a long leave of absence and was amazed at who my new boss was. He was asking a temp to make meatpaste sandwiches. It didn’t strike me at the time, but this was a bizarre instruction and I spent a good half hour trying to track him down to tell him why I had rescinded the order. I was in my best cream high heels running down the stairs and met a heartbreaking ex boyfriend coming up the stairs. I pushed him back down the stairs, Olivia Newton-John style much to his amazement. I was on a roll.
Downstairs were shelves of kosher crisps and a mixed choir singing a Barry Manilow medley. Work had really changed.
Later I walked to New Cross listening to a New York drivetime radio show on my old-school Walkman. My legs were barely working and I knew I would never complete a marathon.