September 17, 2011 § 16 Comments
I am having a plankton day. They come along every now and again, they can creep up on you and make you a tad blue. I get over them soon enough. Perhaps it’s because it was a late night out; the house is empty of folk, and it’s raining outside.
Mostly, though, I suspect it’s because there is a decided absence of twinkles at the moment, Smidgen having merged off the horizon and beyond, into the invisible ether. (He said in his latest email yesterday that he was sorry he couldn’t come to the event that many a mate was going to last night, he felt guilty, but that it was on account of his terrible work load – with a lot of old chestnuts, presumably).
And I wanted to forget entirely about Longer Shot but he is a man who, like a new word, I hear bandied about all over the shop and can’t seem to escape. It turns out practically everyone I have ever met – and plenty more I haven’t – seems to have either known or lived or broken bread with or visited or fucked or loved him. I have said this before, I know, but the stories about him just keep on coming. And the more I hear, the more intriguing he becomes, of course, curiouser and curiouser, and the more elusive and unreal he appears. With each latest snippet of information about him, I am recognising that he is one heck of a tree but no amount of barking up him could be described as a sensible use of my time. Though I am going to see him in a few days time, if not him me. (NB. Careful use of the word “see”. As opposed to the more normal “meet”. Don’t ask.)
Meanwhile, my mother is being rung by a fellow, a friend of hers who is younger than her but older than me and who met me once, briefly, some years ago. He is getting divorced and has just split up with his mistress and has asked my mother twice in the past week for my number. She hesitated to do so without clearing it with me first but then did give it to him on the grounds that it might be nice for me to have [a multi-millionaire] someone to go to the movies with.
When I stated in (an earlier post), My Criteria, both posh and rich, I qualified rich by saying what I really mean is relatively; meaning preferably not destitute. Meaning, without wanting to sound grabby or anything, at least vaguely solvent and, unlike the Caretaker, perhaps with the wherewithal – and shoes – to get to Sidcup.
Mother, I never was a gold-digger. Didn’t have the heart for it. Or the figure.
But since her friend is the only man in existence who is showing the remotest poppy seed of interest, I await his call and will happily go on a date with him if he asks me.
Curiouser and curiouser but, as is sometimes the way with these things, his call ain’t entirely come to pass quite yet.
And curiouser and curiouser, I ain’t exactly holding my breath about it either.