‘Depends on why you want me to. Is it so you can get a British passport? I’m no stranger to colonial machinations, you know.’
‘No. It’s because you’re amazing and scrumptious and I can’t stand being apart from you any longer.’
‘Oh, right. OK.’
‘OK what?’
‘OK, I’ll marry you.’
‘I’m not joking.’
‘Me neither.’
This is fiction. My computer is still playing up, but I can still joke. Now, that’s what I call resilience.
The wind has risen to gale force and the rain is clattering against the window. I doubt much of my garden will be standing tomorrow. Whether I will or not remains to be seen. One way and another, it’s been a highly charged day.
2 comments:
doh JJ, I knew half way through that you were writing fiction...you need to work on it...fiction should draw the reader in so they can live the FANTASY believing it's REAL(even if just for a moment)! lol, THANK God for imagination...not sure how many of us poor sods would get by without dreaming on par with creating fantastic realities...
Thanks for your mail...and you, likewise.
Damn! I wonder which bit gave me away. 'Amazing and scrumptious' I expect. Maybe I should have written 'Well, people your age do have lots of money, don't they?' And I could have replied 'Not this one, kidda. I'm young at heart.'
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