All my windows are open, in the glorious weather, for the breeze and the scent of the roses.
Neighbours’ cat pops in for a look-see.
Neighbours’ cat is housetrained.
Neighbours’ cat thinks my house is “Outside”.
Had I written “Neighbours’ cat scent marked my flat” it would not have been funny. This is an attempt at a joke, with allusions to the punch-line throughout, all the weight on the last word, the last word making everything clear without actually spelling it out. What do you think of it?
I am chatting with Nichola and Regina. Regina asks Nichola how she likes to be called. Nicki, or Nichola?
-Actually, I don’t care. I can’t control it, and either is OK. Some people call me both. Though I too like to get names right.
Regina says “OK, I will call you Nichola. It is pretty,” though she has misunderstood: Nicki meant, get other people’s names right.
Later, I hear that Regina hates being called “RegINa” as it sounds like vagina, and wages fruitless battles to get people to call her “RegEENa”.
On another occasion, I am fully aware of the line I should take. When this particular friend compliments my hands, I say that hers are the perfect balance of femininity and strength. After all, I have been here more than once before, it is almost a ritual between us. The first time I did not get it at all.