Taking the Dyson for a walk
I've just finished taking the Dyson for a walk round my flat as part of my cleaning sesh. Luckily my flat is so bijou that I can hoover the whole square footage without having to relocate to a different plug. My dabble with domesticity (I've scrubbed the floors and done the dusting too) is in honour of my friend's visit tomorrow. She hasn't seen my flat before and I'm taking her to see a play at Stratford as part of her birthday present.
This weekend bodes well for me not ending up looking like a complete berk, as happened a few weekends ago before my last visitors arrived. My friends from a previous job, who I meet up with about once a year, were coming to see stay for the weekend. My friend Fiona and I had emailed each other to sort out the plans. On the Friday evening I got a text from a strange number saying they would be late. So I rang Fiona's number and got a comedy, breathy voiced 'sorry I'm not able to take your call right now' answerphone message. A few minutes later I rang back and the call picked up.
Except it wasn't Fiona, it was a man who said 'Are you the person who has been sending strange texts for months and saying something about camping?" he said.
"You're not Fiona, you're a man!" I replied.
"Yes" he said.
"We're not camping, she needs to bring a sleeping bag for my sofabed" I garbled. "Have I got the wrong number in my phone? Sorry, I'll delete it. Bye!"
And then Fiona rang me again on the strange number that was her real mobile phone number. Turns out when I changed mobile phones last August I'd entered her number in incorrectly. She said she'd thought it odd that she hadn't heard that much from me for the last year. I said I felt like a complete berk.
Still, at least a good weekend was eventually had by all. And the man with the comedy answerphone message knows he hasn't really got a text stalker…