QL rang me in a panic.
‘Lucy thinks that the reunion is still on. She didn’t receive the lockdown cancellation email. She’ll arrive in Edinburgh tomorrow.’
I ignored the message – indeed forgot about it – until the following afternoon when I finally dragged myself out of bed. It came as quite a surprise to find Lucy, her husband Nick (0r was it Mark), their two little girls, and a baby in my kitchen. Lucy was unloading the dishwasher, almost managing to find the right places for most of our crockery and cutlery. Meanwhile Nick/Mark was discussing structural changes to the flat with an architect friend who had found access to a hidden loft above the hall ceiling.
I had made no provision for overnight visitors, but guessed that the two older children could sleep on the sofas in the sitting room while the parents took the futon in the study. Nick/Mark, however, was set on sleeping in the cellar and had already started rearranging the bikes and garden equipment so that he and his wife could put down a mattress on the dusty concrete floor.
This was all too much for me. All I wanted to do was to join KA and EA in a small wooden boat for a row across the lake in the summer sunshine.
Dreamaticus 