DAY ONE IN THE SLOPHOUSE Mk II.
'Just put this tile on your phone, L, and they'll never get lost again!'
The only time I can't find my phone is when something else is put on top of it.
'Go on, give it a go, I bought extra ones for you!'
[sigh] Okay. It'll just show me it's in this room underneath something though, won't it? Like Find My Phone does?
'Umm, yes - but it'll mean I can we can make it bleep so we can tell if it's under the sofa or behind some books.'
TWO DAYS LATER:
'WHERE WERE YOU? I had a chaos AND YOU WEREN'T HERE'
Got stuck at work for ages. Couldn't call, sorry.
'THAT'S STRANGE. Are you sure you weren't in x 's beer garden for at least 2 hours after leaving work?
What?' Well, yes, we had the meeting there.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING. LJC IS ON THE C2C SERVICE, STILL FEELING SLIGHTLY DISCOMBOBULATED FROM THE PREVIOUS DAY'S QUESTIONING.
[thinking] How did she know where I was?
Is she psychic?
Did one of my friends put anything up on Insta?
[Train continues rattling along]
...
...
...
duck'S SAKE. The Tile. tit. Bollocks. I've gotta get rid of this thing. [twists it off easily and sticks it under the seat] That should sort it.
THAT EVENING AT THE LOVE NEST:
'Go anywhere nice today?'
No, been in the office all day.
'Nowhere else?'
No.
'You sure?'
I'm sure.
LATER ON. THE ATMOSPHERE IS A LITTLE STRAINED. LJC IS IS CAREFULLY WATCHING TV WHILST POTS ARE BEING POINTEDLY SLAMMED ABOUT IN THE BLUE KITCHEN. THE PITTER PATTER OF ICKLE BALLET TOESES APPROACHES.
'Your Tile isn't on the back of your phone'
Really? [think fast, woman, you're in the tit slop if you can't get out of this one]
Oh, crap, I dropped my phone on the train. It must have come off at the same time. [duck, duck, bollocks duck]
'Hmmph. They were REALLY EXPENSIVE, YOU KNOW.'
I'll give you the money for it, sorry, I guess they just aren't as useful when you travel lots?
'Well, OK. You are so silly, always losing things, aren't you? Like YOUR SCARF.'
Yes, I promise I'll try to be more careful.
JUST UNDER THREE WEEKS LATER. LJC GLANCES AT TWITTER TO MAKE SURE JM HASN'T OFFERED PENELOPE KEITH OUTSIDE, CHALLENGED ANGELA RIPON TO A DUEL OR THREATENED TO KICK SIR DAVID ATTENBOROUGH IN THE SHINS (OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT).
Oh. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Poly x
" or even a "Well looks can be deceiving, can't they Patricia?"
so boringly average and still can't get things off a supermarket top shelf! I was once sent flying in a volleyball game by someone who 'didn't see me down there', chief inspector no less too which didn't stop a few rude words from me.
