I’ve just put my pizza in the
oven microwave, when my Mum rings to discuss locations for flats.
‘Could you ask the people at work about the areas where they live?’ she says.
‘Y–es. Only thing is, quite a few of them are quite, y’know, settled. As in, they live with boyfriends and partners a bit further out.’
I don’t hate them.
‘Yes, well, that’s an option.’
‘Not really,’ I say. ‘As in, it would involve paying someone….’
We laugh. The microwave pings.
‘No, no, I mean,’ she says, ‘that if you do find someone, and live together, there are some lovely areas you can go to.’
Never to be seen or heard of again.
‘Hmmm yes,’ I say distractedly. ‘Could I eat my pizza now please?’