Billygean.co.uk

MindReader and I are viewing a flat. Our lease is up soon and we can so do better. Or – erm – cheaper, because actually, I don’t get paid that much, when you account for how much soap I buy.

“So this one’s nice,” GrumpyEstateAgent says. “It’s got – erm – high ceilings.”

We walk into the property. I realise instantly that I shouldn’t have been persuaded to view this.

It is one room. Including bedroom. Furnished, whereas we need unfurnished. It doesn’t have a bath.

MindReader throws me a what the fuck? look.

It takes us all of 20 seconds to look around the apartment. It does, to its credit, have canal views. GrumptEstateAgent doesn’t say a word the whole time we look at it. I hope he’s not on commission.

“There’s a gym on site just for tenants,” GrumpyEstateAgent says eventually, staring at the floor. MindReader stares at me. It is true that I do NOT need a gym.

We walk out of the tiny flat. “Billygean,” MindReader pokes me in the bottom as we go up a flight of stairs. “We need to have words.”

I squint. I suppose maybe MindReader doesn’t want to spend his evenings viewing whimsical flats that I chose.

“Mmm,” I say.

We reach the gym. It is actually just a kind of greenhouse with three running machines and a weights machine in it.

“There’s a courtyard too,” GrumpyEstateAgent says.

He leads us out. It is not exactly a courtyard. It comprises about four paving slabs and two fake plants, overlooking 200 other flats. The view is not great.

“What do you think?” GrumpyEstateAgent asks.

“Oh this is the best paved area I’ve seen,” MindReader says smirking. “Top ten paved areas, wouldn’t you say, Billygean?”

I think he’ll be booking the next viewing.

We are at OldHousemate’s wedding. I lived with her for three years at University so it is sort of momentous. Well, as momentous as weddings can be when you attend one a week.

“I need a wee I need a wee I need a wee,” I chunter to MindReader. We have just sat down for the reception.

“Go after the bride and groom come in,” he says, looking only slightly exasperated. You may laugh at me on this blog but he has to deal with me ALL THE TIME.

“No because then the food might be served and I need to be here to check it’s gluten-free!” I say. It is stressful. “I’m going now,” I say, and dash off to the loo.

On the way back, I see OldHousemate and her HUSBAND waiting to walk in. I dither for a moment and stand with the catering staff. Probably since I have already harassed them 11 times about wheat flour, they look at me like I am a complete moron. Which is up for debate.

OldHousemate makes a sort of motioning with her hand. I’ve got time, I think.

SOMETHING WENT WRONG, THOUGH, because at that moment the Master of Ceremonies announces the bride and groom.

SO WE ALL ENTER TOGETHER.

TO THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE.

All the photos of the bride and groom have ME ON THEM. Looking horrified.

I dash to the table and sit down. I am bright red.

MindReader is crying with laughter.

“Just my luck!” I say feebly.

“Not bad luck!” MindReader says. “Most people would wait!”

“But -”

“100 times out of 100 in that situation you WAIT!”

And for the rest of the night that was all anyone spoke about. Complete strangers knew me as the girl who came in with the bride and groom.

“Thanks for that Billygean,” OldHousemate says, brushing by in her white dress. “That made our day.”

I look up. “Are you joking? I completely stole your thunder!”

“No! It was just classic Billygean. It was GREAT.”

“Did you move the bin?” I say, coming into the living room. “It’s facing the other way.”

“Nope,” MindReader says, looking mildly amused.

“OH my God. The filter keeps coming out of the kettle and bing left on the side in the kitchen and neither of us is doing it! And sometimes, early in the morning after you leave, I hear this phone ringing. it sounds like an office phone and it rings ALL THE TIME and nobody ever answers it. It’s haunted – our flat’s haunted!”

MindReader is laughing to himself. He holds his hands up. “I moved the bin.”