Tuesday nights when I’m away…

    I always tease M that when I return to the trailer on Wednesday night there is always an empty tin of tuna, an empty tin of tomatoes and either empty bottles of wine secreted in each gumboot, or six empty bottles of premium beer stashed in the bottom of the recycle box (as if I’m not going to see them there). Tonight on the phone…

    “M, what did you have for dinner tonight?” I ask, expecting the two tin answer, all mixed in with pasta and beer.

    “Well, I had one bit of toasted bread with butter and organic raspberry jam from Maldon on it.”

    “Ah. I see. Your appetiser. And then what?”

    “Well, then I had one more bit of toasted bread [??!] with butter and organic raspberry jam from Maldon on it.”

    “Riiiiight.”

    Inside, I was pleading with him to ask me what I’d had for dinner, forgetting, momentarily, that he’s a bloke, and that the thought wouldn’t even flicker on his cerebral horizon. I wanted to be able to say that I had scary spaghetti from my mum’s cupboard, mixed in with swiss brown mushrooms fried in garlic and olive oil with sundried tomato pesto (admittedly, it was from a jar, as I have no idea how to sun-dry a tomato. Oh. Right. Um…) stirred through it all. It was all bleating at me up from the confines of my stomach - “Tell him what you cooked for dinner, teeeeelllllll hiiiiimmmmmm.” But I didn’t. I gained some points and said;

    “You know those two beers in the fridge? The ones that are mine?

    [Tangent: - a strange logic exists in Trailerland. M thinks that because he is bigger than me he is automatically entitled to more beer. Despite the fact that this is patently untrue. It should be half each. HALF EACH. And I have taken to becoming more obstreperous than normal as he has five beers to my two. I usually claim the last three stubbies as MY OWN to be consumed at MY leisure. / End of Tangent]

    …You can have them to go with your toast and jam dinner - it sounds like you need them more than me.”

    I can feel his smile beam down the phone line. He doesn’t know that I found my mother’s bottle of Tanqueray, and her tonic, ice and lime. Ha!


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