August 28th, 1990
At home, England
Mum cycled over to mine this afternoon, the wicker basket on her bike overflowing with goodies.
“Ooh, thanks for the cream cakes,” I said. “I’ll make tea and we can sit in the garden.”
“Next year this’ll all be in bloom,” she said, as I placed the tea tray on the ceramic table the previous owners left behind.
“You have plans I see.”
“Aye well if you don’t mind, dad and I will plant some stuff then when the season rolls around again, we’ll fill pots with flowers and dot them about the patio.”
“Sounds lovely, mum.”
“Anything for my lassie,” she smiled. “I’m awful proud of you, hen.”
“I couldn’t have done any of it without you and dad.”
“Do you think David will come and stay?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, he’s trying to get some time off so he can stop in London on his way back from Tokyo.”
“Ohhhh,” she cooed. “Does this mean I might actually get to meet him?”
“Och,” she continued. “I canny wait!”
“I think you’ll like him.”
“I already feel like I know him,” she laughed.
“He says the same about you. It’s all that time you two have spent on the phone.”
“Aye but it’s no the same as seeing the person is it.”
Not a single bit.