January 26th, 1989

January 26th, 1989
East Sussex.

Pamsy met me at my favourite train station, the very quaint Cooden Beach. No doubt at some point, it’ll get modernized, but if I had my way, it would never change. Took two trains to get here, and the second train was one of the old fashioned ones I love, with the compartments that seat only six people. For over an hour, I had the compartment to myself, and used the luxury of the setting, to start writing a short story, about a girl on a train.

Stopped in at Pamsy’s parents’ house first, and had a lovely catch up with them. Then we came to the flat, and Pamsy “whipped up,” dinner for us. The only place left to sit, is on the couch, because Kim moved out and took the kitchen table, and chairs, with her.

Balancing my plate on my lap (not my favourite way to eat) I said to Pamsy, “I wish I could cook like this. It’s so good.”
“It’s just sweet and sour chicken, you could easily make it.”
“I don’t think so. You know how hopeless I am in the kitchen.”
“You love baking. Who was it who said, let them eat cake?”
“Marie Antoinette, and what she actually said, was, ‘Qu’ils mangent de la brioche.’”
“Which means?”
“Let them eat brioche.”
“Silly cow.”
Pamsy said it with such conviction, that I couldn’t help but laugh.

We caught the last few minutes of a groovy looking French film, and realized our French isn’t good enough not to require subtitles. We also realized that it’s really difficult to talk, and read subtitles, at the same time. When the closing credits were running, Pamsy asked, “When is Ben coming home from Italy?”
“Hopefully soon.”
“And what?”
“What do you think will happen?” she asked.
“What do you think will happen?”
“Do you want my honest opinion?” she asked, taking my plate, and walking into the kitchen. I followed her. Pamsy put our plates in the sink, and turned to me. I nodded my head, “yes.”
“I think you’ll shag him, and fall madly in love with him all over again, and put yourself in great peril of getting your heart broken. Again.”
“Ouch,” I said.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know it sounds harsh, but I can’t bear to see you going through all of that again. I loved seeing you happy in Florida, and hearing about you and Gabriel.”
“You can’t compare Gabriel, to Ben,” I said, suddenly feeling defensive.
“My point is, you were happy there. Without him.”
“I still thought about him.”
“But you’ve survived for month’s without him.”
I let out a long, guttural sound, and Pamsy started laughing. “Only Scottish people can make that sound,” she said, which made me laugh too.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I just want you be happy. Shall we leave it at that?”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, and I have something that will cheer you up.”
“What is it? I asked.
“Turn around,” she said, gesturing with her hand. I turned my back to her, and heard the pantry door creaking.
“Ok, you can turn around,” she said.
When I did, Pamsy had a huge smile on her face, holding a package of Chips Ahoy.

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