A different autumn of the year.

The phone rang just after 10p.m; it was my son.

“Yo, tippy topper!”

“Yo, lippy loppy!”

“Are you freezing?”

“Am I freezing??”

“Are you freezing?”

“No, I’m not freezing, it’s really warm.”

“No, are you SLEEPING?”

Pretty standard so far.

“I’m on my way home.”

Ah, yes, this figures. His mum had left him the car so he could empty and clean his appartment-about-to-be-left-and-inspected-by-the-renting-agency and instead he’s going to a party.

“With Lucy.”

Oh.

We are off the standard now.

Lucy is his girlfriend that maybe isn’t his girlfriend anymore because after being his girlfriend for a very long time she didn’t really want to be his girlfriend all summer and autumn until recently when he started to find another girlfriend and then she didn’t want to be his whatever it was or the new sort of girlfriend to be whatever she was.

“Ok, when?”

“Be there in an hour.”

“Ok, see you.”

What to do?

Do I want to be here?

The evening had been settling into the bottom of a glass of wine and I hadn’t spoken to anyone except the cat for about eight hours and I think I was just becoming part of the table.

I made some salad, I suddenly felt hungry.

I watched a bit of T.V.

I sat at the table again.

It was midnight.

How long do I need to stay up?

Can I hide?

Am I needed as someone to contribute wisdom?

‘Cos I don’t have any.