saturday

Open one eyelid. Close mouth. Roll over. Oh. Hello yummie... er, I mean...(sinking feeling in gut)... No! My god!
Now someone better get their ass back from fjarskanistan REAL FAST or this could get embarrassing. Ok. What to do? There must be a way of finding out. But let's look at things rationally, get our priorities right. So. A bit of morning glory. Right. Done (by the way - WOW!). Now what. "Are you hungry?" How the hell is that going to help! Tease him a bit " My my, young man, 26, eh!" He says he's 27. But in a good way, mabe even joking. How would I know, somehow my conversational skills tend to leave me from time to time. They might be having an affair with my memory. I should rent out the extra space in my head: dark and dingy space to let for weekends only (occational vacancies at other times), ideal for city breaks, guaranteed good fun, will take no responsibility for bodily harm, starvation or inexplicable aches and paines. But for now I'm on my own.
Did I mention that I'm lucky? Mr yummie here needs to do a bit of paperwork, real quick, if that's ok. Just borrow the www for a coupla minutes. Hehe, where are my glasses, this is too good to be true. It's all down to eyesight now, good old basic hardware stuff. Spikey! That's it, now I remember (sort of), phew.

The door to nr 214 open, a man and a woman step out. They look at each other and smile, a certain cheekyness in their eyes. They head up the street, the sun warms their aching heads, somewhere not far away music is playing.