Just imagine my dread going to bed last night after a phone call from my teacher friend who is 42 and three quarters.
“James, can I borrow your car tomorrow? Yours is bigger than mine so I thought we could take it to Ikea and one trip would do rather than two in my Mini”
Now, I don’t have a problem with him borrowing my car. The last time I lent it to him it came back cleaner than it was when Teacher took custody of it. And Ikea? I thought we could get there for 9am and avoid all of the screaming children. I quite fancied one of their Chelsea Buns from the cafe. They are rather good.
I arrive at Teacher’s house to find another mate Teacher 2 (he is 32 and a half). He is a primary school teacher and he wanted to come too. Teacher 2 was able to recite the full text of “Spot the Dog” in the car on the way there. Once we were in Ikea he disappeared only to be found amongst the plants as last years had died. Teacher 1 asks the obvious question as to whether or not they had been watered, Teacher 2 said “Don’t be silly”.
I drive home with a BMW filled with foliage, Teacher 1 sitting in the passenger seat talking about his up and coming mini-break to Spain whilst Teacher 2 was nowhere to be seen through the rear view mirror with ferns, rubber plants, and palms covering my view and with all manner of cacti and bizzi lizzi adoring my parcel shelf. At one point during a 3 point turn my eye caught sight of an ironing board (commonly used as the mini bar in Teacher 1’s flat) in the back of the car.
It’s only the end of week two I was reliably informed. Just four to go!