Saturday, 25 February 2012

Me, Quick Worker and my friends

Faith is having a party as her parents have gone away for the weekend and left her older brother in charge - he is putty in our hands.  The problem is that she doesn't want to invite Quick Worker.  None of my friends like him for a variety of reasons. They say he is boring – it is true that he mainly talks about football (but so does Harry Redknapp and I've always had a soft spot for him) - but then we weren't exactly scintillating, none of my group would have impressed Alain de Botton.  Our topics of conversation being how much we hate school (a lie - we are all basically nerds), hate living in the country, hate not having a Top Shop within 20 miles,  boys we hate, boys we like, boys we are indifferent to (not many of them) and mostly boys we lurve.
Anyway back to Quick Worker.  They don't like the way he dresses – appreciation of the DM is not universal.  They didn’t like his taste in music – he liked pop and we liked rock (I, of course, would never admit my interest in Elgar or Reynaldo Hahn - it would have been social suicide).  Poor Quick Worker - this dislike of him makes me feel quite protective.  

The party is OK, although Faith is extremely stroppy and accuses me of forgetting my  real friends and says I'm selling out to the man.  In the end I go and sit in the bathroom for some peace and quiet – sitting in an empty bath is quite relaxing I recommend it if you haven't tried it - enamel baths being the best as they are nicely chilled).  I think I may even have had a little nap while people banged on the door increasingly desperate – this being the only bathroom in the house.  

Eventually I go back to the party - somewhat refreshed.  I hunt for Quick Worker and find him with Faith in her bedroom - I am pleased they seem to be getting on.  The party ends.

The next day when I go round to Faith's house her mum says that she is in bed with a cold and doesn't want to see anyone, but I insist - after all we are BFF.  Faith is grumpy, bundled up as if for the Arctic and even has a scarf on.
'Bit hot for that,' I say.
She slowly unwraps the scarf to reveal a Quick Worker signature love bite.
'I told you he wasn't very nice, ' she said triumphantly. 

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