I thought that they should throw away the old shower attachment, but everyone else thought that it was worth keeping.
‘If it’s good enough for David Bowie, it’s good enough for you!’ shouted a stranger as he pushed me down a water slide.
I left with AJ. She seemed rather agitated. In the lift I declared my love for her. This didn’t seem to solve her dilemma: to support me or to support Norman.
We were temporarily distracted by the sound of TPR’s loud voice. He was declaring his affection for the Scottish Falsetto Sock Puppet Theatre in a radio interview with the BBC.
The flat was very similar to the one that TPR and I shared when we first moved here. It was strange to think that we once fitted all our belongings into such a small space.
Then I saw all the left-over food in the corner. TPR and I immediately embarked on identifying the goodies that we could take home with us. There were chicken sandwiches, ham sandwiches, salads, and sushi. The chive stems filled with cream cheese were particularly tempting.
GSX followed us up the staircase in baby blue ankle boots.
‘What about your injury?’ I asked.
‘It’s fine’, she replied, ‘It doesn’t hurt at all’.
We knew that we had come to the right place when we saw all the primary school children dressed in hand-knitted jumpers. They were modelling their own creations in the hope that they could sell surplus stock at their stall.
Everywhere I turned there was another black cat. They swarmed through the house as I hunted for my sister.
When I found her she showed off her latest creation: a pale blue flowered toddler’s top, modelled by her son. While I admired her handiwork, I didn’t approve of a little boy dressed in such clothing.
I hadn’t seen Mr and Mrs G since the day of our wedding, but the red Le Creuset pans that they had given to me and TPR were still going strong. I thanked them for the present once again.
Mr G was interested to hear all about my long career. It was going to take a while to explain everything that had happened since the notification of my A level results.
The official exit from the dodgy Indian gym was through a hole the size of a brick. I declared a bad back and sneaked out of the main door.
We’d acquired a dog, but I knew that TPR already regretted taking on this bouncy black spaniel. One morning I discovered that he had not taken the poor pooch out the house even once the previous day. Even so, she had managed not to disgrace herself.
I found her lead and took her straight out for a walk – but then I lost her. TPR didn’t care that she was gone.
When we found her later at the side of the road TPR looked very disappointed, and was reluctant to let her into our car. However, she was extremely keen to bounce her way back into our lives – with three American children in tow.
It was almost midnight and we were queuing up for unspecified fun. R joined our party, complaining that she was still not pregnant. SL, HJ and I shot one another a glance. This was not the time and place to express that one’s sole purpose in life is to reproduce (and anyway, if God meant her to become a mother, this is what she would be).
Behind us in the queue was a man with a Teesside accent and a big nose. He clearly knew who I was and invited me to guess his identity. My first suggestion was PN. Then it struck me that this was V, an old friend of my brother-in-law M.
V introduced me to his (current) wife, thirteen of his numerous children, and showed off his fine collection of glass ornaments