Monday, February 26, 2007

Mulberry Bags - For All Your Life Needs

Mulberry Bags - For All Your Life Needs

Dean and I are seated at one of the high tables in the Slug - my having won the battle (this week) not to sit on one of the sofas where I find it extraordinarily difficult to eat without resorting to spilling my food down my front - winding our way towards the end of Sunday lunch. Because it is a Sunday and therefore it doesn't count I am having sticky toffee pudding. It is sticky. It tastes of toffee. It is therefore good. And if not a million miles away then the events of the last week (and the ulcer I'm sure they're giving me) have been bundled away, post-marked some date in the future where there will be more answers than there are questions.

We've been trying to synchronise our diaries, fitting in Dean's desire to push his socialite status to the max with the laws of geography and physics and whatnot, and talk has turned to next Sunday, when I've been invited to have dinner with Dean and Director Boy.

"You've got to promise me one thing".

Dean says this in such a serious manner that I actually stop eating the sticky toffee pudding, wondering if I'm going to have sign away my soul, my first born, or - more likely - any designer handbag I get in the next decade.

"Go on".

"You've got to promise - I know you wouldn't - but you need to promise anyway".


I'm wondering where this is heading now, sticky toffee pudding (almost) forgotten.

"You've got to promise that you won't sleep with my boyfriend."

Dean deapans it. I almost spray sticky toffee pudding over him as I begin to laugh. Dean, thankfully, is laughing too.

"I don't think that's something you need to worry about - but I promise anyway".

We've both got the giggles now, something which is ok because I'm sure that were the situation reversed (when the situation is?) with Director Boy in my position he would giggle too.


It's at moments like this that I realise that I'm not the biggest Diva in this relationship.

"On what?!"

"I don't know!"

We're all high voices and flailing arms.

"Ok - I swear on any future Mulberry bag I might get, I will not sleep with your boyfriend".

Dean smiles, fully satisfied. I remain eternally grateful that I don't have a Y chromosome.

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