Me: I think I’ll ring Aunty Helen.
Her: NOOO, talk to me, I hate the telephone.
Me: Nope, I’m going to call her.
Her (snorting): Big meanie.
I ring her work number.
Indian Gentleman: Hallo.
Me (Somewhat surprisd): Oh hello, I was looking for Helen.
Him: For Hindi?
Me: No, for Helen.
Princess (loudly): Big meanie.
Him: Oh OK. Where from?
Princess (loudly): I hate the telephone.
Me: From Brussels. From Belgium.
Him: Wait ok?
Helen: Is something wrong?
Me: No, just rang for a chat.
Princess: Big mean old Mummy.
Helen: Oh, because, I’ve just been pulled out of a difficult meeting that I’m chairing.
Me: Oh right, you better go back then, I hope that I didn’t undermine the professional tone of the meeting.
Helen: No, I think that that was fatally compromised by the stream of employees coming in wanting to play table tennis.
Helen: Well, we are running late and after work there’s a table tennis club here.
My sister is 31 today – fancy that, and though the Princess won’t let me talk to her, she did sing happy birthday for her.
I love Beth, she’s just so nice. That makes her sound bland but she’s not, at all. She’s hilarious. She’s kind and clever too. She is also mother to the world’s most beautiful child only excepting yours and mine which are tied there at the top also. There are some blogs I love but I’m not entirely sure I would like to meet the author but I would love to meet Beth. That’s why she should be worried about stalkers in, what she foolishly believes to be, her Washington safe house. Doubtless, once you have investigated her blog, you will want to stalk her too, but, hey, join the queue.
Inventor of the NaBlPoMo. Do I need to say more?