Dave!

24 November 2004

While Dad was visiting Ted today, I had a surprise visitor in the shape of Dave. And not only was he shaped like Dave, he actually was Dave! He turned up in his big truck thing that isn’t really a truck, bringing with him an enormous black cloud. The sky had been white all day and the moment he arrived, it turned black and suddenly threw it down with rain. Would’ve preferred snow, but beggars can’t be choosers and neither, it seems, can I.

Being an old man, Dave turned down my offer of Pepsi and went for tea instead (ah, those were the days when he and John existed solely on Coca Cola and the thrill of lowering the suspension on their cars). The tea-making was a team effort, with me switching the kettle on and directing Dave around the kitchen, offering him green or blue milk and then watching him do all the work. I’m such a good hostess.

We had a good natter while the old man drank his tea, catching up on life and complaining about work. Nothing specific about work really, just the fact that we have to do it. If we ran a company together, I don’t think much would get done. But its website would be lovely. As we talked, it became apparent that far too much time has passed far too quickly in our lives. I was rummaging around for a photo from the summer ball to show Dave and discovered that that particular ball took place in 1999. That’s like a whole other century, dude. Back then I was still wearing the glasses that were too small for me and I was quite possibly beginning to cultivate my cerebral abscess. Now, I have contact lenses and am content with merely hatching a 1cm kidney stone.

While he was here, Dave was also witness to my stationery fetish. Kippertie’s accountants had sent us a big expensive, useless diary each. They were in three separate padded jiffy bags – the sort that make my heart pound. Not only was I able to remove the sellotape that bound the three together without ripping them, I was also able to peel off the address and postage labels on the top one without damaging it. Despite Dave willing them to tear. At least Lauren’s Dave wasn’t here. He would doubtless have been much peskier.