Mr L rang last night. He said he was sitting on Preston station. It wasn’t yet 10pm. How come? He was supposed to be killing time in Manc, where there would be plenty to do.
“Manc was horribly depressing: too many people, and full of drunks. So I thought I’d get the train to Preston and wait here instead. But Preston is full of drunks too and there’s a bouncer outside every pub so I didn’t go in…â€
Okayyyyy. But what about dinner? Had he had his dinner?
“I had a pint in Wetherspoons in Manchesterâ€
But what had he eaten – the Thursday Curry Club, perhaps?
“I just had a sausage roll.â€
But he needs more than that if he’s travelling all night!
“I didn’t feel like eating…â€
There was a short pause, during which I heard girly squealing…
“They have those girls here, like in Leeds.â€
Ah, he means the ones that go out with no clothes on… they pour out of the trains at Leeds, on their way to the clubs, at an hour when normal people are going home.
“It’s horrible.â€
I smiled, thinking that many men of his age would be enjoying that scenery. We returned to the subject of dinner:
“I haven’t enjoyed anything all week. I don’t want to eat. I miss your cooking.â€
How’s that for an endorsement?
I do like a man who knows which side his bread is buttered 🙂
I also like a man who knows how to do a proper compliment and make a wife feel properly valued. I knew what I was doing when I picked this one. Oh, yes.
And now I am REALLY pissed off that the chocolates I ordered to welcome him home with have not arrived. (Ah well, it will have to be the BJ, I guess.)