ECHO 7/4/06

And so we make a move once more – this time north – as Pol takes a new job.

Before we go however A ensures his masculine territorialism is known to me and he has a go at me once again about his toilet seat fixation as I surface from sleep and come downstairs for my morning coffee. It’s the only thing he says to me. Not even a good morning in response to mine. I defend myself honourably, maintaining (and it is true) that it isn’t me. Funny thing is when I go into the small downstairs toilet outside his smoking den and which I have not used for a couple of days at least, the seat is up. So when I with all good intention return to let him know this fact he is hurrying out the front door and gone. In that moment he reminds me of a weasel. Suspect this is how it’s going to be when I get back next week and start living here without Pol around to keep me sweet.

Survival can be a strange game sometimes. Creative and entertaining. Irritating too.