Things BestFriend and I talk about

My BestFriend lives in London. Save for outings every couple of months, almost all of our interaction happens over the phone, Facebook, text and email.

“I might have to go camping, though,” BestFriend says.

“Oh,” I say. “Oh.

“Now, I want to see the world…” BestFriend says; a nod to an ex-boyfriend of mine who once said he had “absolutely no interest in seeing the world”.

“Yeah, but, there are ways of doing things.”

“Exactly.” I hear BestFriend cruching on crisps down the phone.

“You know what I think?” I say.


“Camping is like saying, hey, let’s go sleep on the patio outside when we have a perfectly good bed upstairs.”

“Exactly. Exactly.”


“So what did you do when MindReader was away?”

“Got sucked into a YouTube vortex,” I say.


“I was looking up Spanish videos.” (Internet, I am still learning Spanish. Soy abogada, de puta madre!)


“And in the sidebar there was this Spanish woman who… well… she does these videos about organisation.”


“So I ended up watching these bloody videos about how best to store your hair brushes and how to fold a pair of jeans.”

BestFriend says nothing. I pause, thinking. “I suppose the worst moment,” I say, “was at midnight, when I was watching one about how to organise your purse, and she said ‘I really like a good zipper,’ and I thought, what the fuck am I doing with my life?”

“Billygean. If you ever find yourself in this situation again you’ve got to call me.”

3 thoughts on “Things BestFriend and I talk about

  1. Of course not. But in Spain it means “fucking great” and not “your mother is a prostitute” as direct translation would have you believe:-) x

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