Ro tells me that his sister and his friend Zain have both texted him, congratulating him on his decision to move out (congratulating? Like I’m an Old Man of the Sea he has to break away from? Sheesh). Weeza knew because the Sage had told both of us, but he knows that Zain must have read it here. He now thinks that one advantage of moving out will be that I won’t write about him any more. He’s flattering himself of course, I don’t think I mention him, except in passing, that often. “I’m not that interesting of course” when I told him that. “If I were like *startlingly badly-behaved son of a friend* you’d have more to say.”
I don’t think I would though. I’d be more likely to mention the good times. Dirty washing would stay out of sight.
This reminds me, when I said, earlier this afternoon, that I needed to buy food for the weekend, the Sage volunteered to do the shopping. Awfully good of him, so I reminded him that we needed food for two days and off he went. A few minutes ago, he came in the room. “Dinner in about half an hour, all right?” “Oh, okay, that’s a bit early,” I said, preparing to get up. It was made clear that the Sage is doing the cooking. I don’t mind at all. Especially as he came in carrying a glass of wine for me. I hid the glass I’d already poured and thanked him prettily.
I wonder if he’ll cook dinner often, once it’s just the two of us? Ro lived away for 3 years of course, when he was at university, but that was at the time when first I was looking after my mum who dramatically told Phil upon meeting him for the first (only) time at Christmas “I’ve received my death sentence, you know” and, at about the same time, Al had moved back here, having just spent all he had on buying and starting the shop. So we were never actually alone at all. Once Al moved out, I suppose we were during term time, but I can’t remember much about it. Gosh, that was nearly 6 years ago, how could I be expected to?