“Urgh” groaned Ro again. “Poor you,” I said sympathetically. “Is it a cold or is it full-blown man flu?” “I suppose I am making a bit of a fuss,” he acknowledged.
I’ll miss him when he moves out, you know. Whenever that will be.
“You know when you get something packed in those polystyrene granules and a bit goes up your nose?” he said. “Well, no, but I have inhaled a feather,” said I. “Well, it feels like that. As if there’s some irritant that you’ve breathed in and it’s right up near your eye.” We talked about polystyrene. Apparently, he’s inhaled it more than once. Stuff was often packed in it where he used to work and in the end he always got someone else to do the unpacking. Most odd.