Читать книгу The Baby Diaries - Sam Binnie - Страница 14

Thom remembered the Diary today – last Christmas he’d given me a diary for the year, with trips and treats every month. Last month he’d dug me out a perfect Marion Ravenwood costume (wicker-basket-Marion, not Nazi-tent-Marion) for Halloween, and in return I found him a Captain Sharpe costume (yes, I know, Thom Sharpe, Captain Sharpe, I am exactly that imaginative); the combination of which resulted in us arriving slightly late, but very cheerful, to the party.

This month, the treat was simply Tickets. November seemed so far off when Thom arranged it all last Christmas that he couldn’t book anything, leaving it instead up to our whims of the moment. Right now, I didn’t know what I wanted – a gig? Theatre? A film? An exhibition? That is, until Thom suggested a swap.

Thom: You don’t have to go for this. But you know you’re only allowed the treat within the month – there are no rollovers.

Me: Where was this written down?

Thom: [taps side of his head] So, here’s your alternative. I go out, right now, and get you six ice-cold bottles of ginger beer, a jumbo bag of salted vegetable crisps, aaaand … [holding up his hands]

Me: A can – no, make it two; two cans of corned beef.

Thom: [shuddering] Whatever milady requires. So what do you say? Is it a swap?

We agreed to the swap, as I’m in no fit state to be going anywhere at the moment. But I did enjoy my strange, protein-heavy meal this evening immensely.