Naked

I’ve just done my first shift at work without my ‘buddy’ Claire. I felt vulnerable and exposed. And bored. An eight-hour shift where the most taxing thing I have to do is cut open a box of jellies without damaging the goods within gets a bit tedious without someone fun to mess about with. I kept hoping Claire and I might cross paths somewhere in the stockroom or in the dairy aisle, but no such luck. It’s a big store, and I didn’t see her all night. Thinking about it, she was probably wasted on acid all weekend and called in sick with ‘a flu bug.’

I can’t decide what to get Hannah for Christmas. Now we actually like each other, I’d like to make the effort and get her a decent present, but what should it be? Part of me has the horrible feeling she had ‘Toby’ tattooed on her bumcheek during their two-week courtship, so maybe I’ll get her a voucher for a removal. Or maybe I’ll get her some bath gel so she can scrub his lingering odour from her body.

That was a strange moment – I’m typing this sitting downstairs, in the nuddy after a post-work shower. I’m at the coffee table by the window, with my jewels on display being air-dried, and our postman just arrived to deliver our latest pile of junk. We stared at each other through the glass for a few seconds, before he smiled awkwardly and managed to tear his gaze away. He’s off down the path now, shaking his head and looking violated. My reputation in the village continues to grow apace…

RC 25-11-08
1025 GMT