Family / Guy

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CC Image courtesy of PHOTOPHANATIC1 on Flickr‘Mummy’s still on Barbadian time,’ I informed my aunt, the day before.  ‘And I’m always on Barbadian time.’

‘Shall we say midday then?’

Come half twelve, the shouting starts.

‘Everyone ready?’

‘Nearly!’

‘Come on, we’re late.’

I grab water bottle, notebook, pencil and reading material – we’ve a long four-minute drive ahead of us – and am about to leave when my eye falls on my phone.  It’s Christmas; I don’t need it.  I’m about to turn away when the screen lights up: an incoming text.  It won’t be him.  Of course it won’t.  It’s ridiculous.  It’s almost not worth waiting to see; I’ll just be disappointed.  And late.  More late.

CC Image courtesy of sharonlangridge on FlickrMy mother’s behind the wheel…

‘Slow down!’

… of my father’s car.

‘Can’t you see that it’s flooded?  Christ!’

‘Do you want to walk?’

No, my father doesn’t want to walk.

From the safety of the back seat, I dash off a message to a mutual friend.

Did you-know-who wish you happy xmas?  Just wondered if it was a blanket text!

(TO BE CONTINUED)

CC Image courtesy of aldenjewell on Flickr



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