A Christmas Call

Not having much in the way of families close by, The Dreaded One and I spent Christmas pretty much alone in an orgy of food and booze and giggling. I'm not entirely sure what we found so amusing, but we seemed to giggle a lot. Yesterday when everything was open again I had the urge for steamed mussels so we went down to Darling Harbour and drank more booze and I ate a big bowl of steamed mussels. I didn't giggle at the mussels because they were too yummy.

I also didn't giggle at this: sitting at Homebar, my phone rang. I didn't get it in time and I didn't recognise the number. The Dreaded One wanted to know who called. I didn't care. I was more interested in the clouds and the crowds and what a big blue glistening harbour we had spread before us. But The Dreaded One can be a bit of a terrier when it comes to things like this. I didn't really notice that she was fiddling with my phone, but suddenly she handed it back to me looking very satisfied with herself.

"I found it," she told me proudly.

"What?" I frowned at her, absently accepting the phone.

"It's ringing," we both said in unison, one of us pleased, the other less so.

I don't know... booze, giggling, idle musing about silly things, then a call through to my talkative aunt from the bush. God. When I finally established who it was that my phone had just called, The Dreaded One just about fell off her chair laughing and I stood bolt upright and tried to be sensible and chatty and all I'm-going-to-get-you-for-this at the same time. With the noise of the bar and the confusion at both ends of the line (she didn't know why I had called her and was having to ask who I was speaking to) was the most awkward phone conversation in the history of awkward phone conversations.

I must plan my revenge.