July 3rd. 1989

July 3rd, 1989
At home

Got up early this morning and armed with the ads I’ve been cutting out of the newspapers, I started making a bunch of phone calls with regard to French properties. Most of the offices I rang are in London but two were in France and I have to say, I find a man with a French accent rather appealing.

I love the South of France but it’s outrageously expensive and there’s no way I could afford somewhere there on my own. The North is more in my budget and would be much easier for commuting to work, although I’ve met a few crew who commute to Nice.
Must brush up on my French!

Florence came over tonight and we had such a great laugh together. I love that she never takes herself too seriously and even with fifteen years between us, we get on really well together. It’s nice having a friend who’s married with a family and hearing a different perspective to that of my single friends.

Mum just spent the last hour asking me about Graeme and Jon.
“Who do you like more?” she asked.
“I like different things about each of them.”
“Well I’ve never met this Graeme but I have to say, Jon is…”
“I know mum, I know.”
“He’s a big smasher and there’s no too many o’ them about.”
I pretended to be engrossed in the latest issue of Vogue.
“Do you think you’ll see this Graeme again?” she asked.
I gave in and closed the magazine. “We might end up on the same trip again.”
“Would you like that?”
“I would, yeah, but I don’t think I’ll ring him.”
I hesitated then thought what the heck. “I think Graeme might have just been a trip fling.”
Mum cracked up laughing. “Och, I wasnae expecting that.”
“He was in the right place at the right time.”
“Twice,” she stressed.
“Well yeah, there is that.”

As long as I’m not talking about Ben, mum is happy.

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