Friday, April 02, 2010
This morning I got up, showered and washed my hair, had breakfast, changed the sheets, put on a wash and then sat down expectantly.
Keith continued to sit at his computer.
"Right then," I said, "I'll just sit here ..."
"Yes?" said Keith.
"...and wait for you to remember what day it is today."
We went through the predictable: Friday, Good Friday, beginning of the weekend. Keith was wringing his hands and looking increasingly worried.
"And," I continued mercilessly, "My smile will get ever more fixed the longer you take to get the right answer."
I took pity on him. "It's a special day for us," I prompted.
Understanding dawned. "It isn't.... is it? Today?"
Yes, it's seven years to the day since we first met, outside Littlewoods in Liverpool as it happens, although that's a mere detail.
"Oh, you get less than that for murder!" he quipped.
Hmmm, not if it's due to extreme provocation!