Monday, 24 November 2008

pillow talk

On the phone, late Sunday evening, dozing as we compare weekends and make plans, conversation inevitably draws back to how cold it is. Because we are British. And incredibly interesting.
I am always cold. I list what I am wearing; Pyjama bottoms, two tshirts, my enormous (and unwashed) university hoodie, and socks. I even have the hood up.

It dawns on me, when we hang up, that should Law fail as a career, I'd be a great phone sex worker. You know, for that niche sector that likes girls in oversized grubby layers. Filth!

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