April 12th, 1990

April 12th, 1990

At home

Depending on how jet lagged I feel, I’m either up when the first post arrives, on my way to bed or still asleep. This morning I was awake but still in bed when mum came into my room waving a postcard and an airmail envelope.

“Lookie lookie, lookie,” she said, slowly stepping towards me.

I couldn’t help but laugh, not only at her expression but the way in which she said it.

I sat up. “What does it say?”

“Just that Delhi is very…”

“Oh, so you already read the postcard and did you steam open the letter as well?”

“Uff, I wouldnae go that far,” she said, trying not to smile.

“Gimme that,” I laughed, pretending to yank the postcard out of her hand.

 

Ben rang this afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to The Barn for dinner. I could tell the minute he got into the car that something was bothering him but I waited a few minutes before asking if he was ok.

“I just got off the phone with Mandy.”

“Uh-oh, I’m guessing from your tone that it wasn’t a lovey dovey chat.”

He made a little disgruntled sound. “She hung up on me.”

“Why?”

“She’s totally pissed off that I got the job as cabin crew with Virgin. She doesn’t want me to take it.”

I didn’t know how to respond so I kept quiet.

“I mean, I understand why she isn’t thrilled with the fact I’ll be away a lot of the time but this is something I really want to do.”

Again, I waited.

“She’s under the impression that I’ll be shagging everything that moves.”

I looked at him with raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, I know,” he continued. “My track record isn’t exactly stellar but I really would like to make a go of it with her.”

“And yet,” I uttered, in an exaggerated tone.

“Shit,” he laughed. “Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what I’m in for in the wonderful world of flying.”

The time of his life. That’s what he’s in for.

 

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