Last night we phoned Pascoe who’s settling in to his PhD at Edinburgh this month. We could hear from the traffic that he was in the street as he received our call. He’d just been to the cinema with a fellow researcher.
We were on speaker phone and we chatted about this and that, then Nigel said,
“Did you read Clare’s last blog?”
“Not yet – what’s it about?”
“Oh – don’t tell him,” I chipped in, “Just let him read it for himself.”
But Nigel persisted,
“It’s about Clare sounding as if she’d wet herself in public, in a restaurant.”
“WHAT!” cried Pascoe in disgust, “MUM WET HERSELF IN A RESTAURANT?”
Pause, then, “Oh dear, I said that quite loudly and now people are looking at me.”
“I didn’t!” I say pathetically, “I didn’t actually wet myself, it just sounded as if I…”
But too late, we had lost signal.