Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Phone a Friend

I have just this moment received a phone call from a friend. 

As I am of a generation where we no longer actually use the phone for communication, my first instinct was to panic for it could only be the most terribly of news. I choked on the dinner that I had cooked, a delightful assortment of cold ham, roast squash and steamed broccoli, jammed the phone to my ear as though it were an antidote to a horrific poison, pressed the little green button and answered the call.

'What is it, what's happened?' I spluttered, eyes bulging from their sockets as a multitude of horrors passed through my mind.

'Nothing, I'm just walking down the street and it's getting a bit dark.'

Though I should be relieved that I was simply a 'companion call', I thereafter spent the next two minutes in my unprepared state talking utter bilge that I shudder to remember, until thankfully she took the onus of the conversation out of my hands and steered it towards some sense of normality.

It is for similar reasons that I do not ballroom dance.

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