Hall?’
‘Already taken care of.’
‘How…What…When?’
‘Edward, Edward…’ says Dan. ‘Let me introduce you to a recent invention called “the internet”.’ He spins the screen round so I can see it. ‘Ta-da!’
‘I know what the internet is, Dan. How come you can get online here in the Jim? I didn’t know it was a hot spot.’
Dan smiles, ‘Anywhere around me is a hot spot. Especially my trouser area.’
‘Please, Dan. I’m eating.’
He taps his laptop affectionately. ‘The joys of wireless technology. The girl from PC World came round and set it up for me.’
I can sense a story coming on. ‘Oh yes?’
Dan nods. ‘Yup. I can now access the internet from my living room, bathroom,’ he breaks into a grin, ‘even in bed, as it turns out.’
I take the bait that he’s dangled in front of me. ‘In bed?’
‘Well, we had to test it. But in fact it’s got a range of about three hundred metres, which just happens to be the approximate distance from my flat to this pub.’
On the screen I recognize the ‘Friends Reunited’ logo. Beneath it is the heading ‘ University of Brighton, 1995 ’ , and a list of vaguely familiar names, including, of course, a recently updated entry for a ‘Dan Davis’.
He clicks on the ‘previous page’ button, and reads off the screen. ‘Here she is. Sally Hall, class of ’94. No photo, unfortunately. Living in London, working in Pimlico as a finance director…blah blah blah. Quite the career girl, it seems. And she was interested in you?’
I nod. ‘I was quite a catch.’
Dan looks at me pityingly. ‘Note the word “was” in that sentence. Anyway,’ he says, clicking the mouse button a few times, ‘this is what you wrote.’
I stare at him, aghast. ‘What do you mean “what I wrote”?’
Dan takes a sip of his wine, then reads his email back to me. ‘Dear Sally. Hi, Edward Middleton here. Remember me? I certainly haven’t forgotten you. Long time no see, but I need to ask you a favour.’
I go white. ‘Please tell me you didn’t click “send”?’
‘I could tell you that, but it would be a lie. Anyway—what have you got to lose? Apart from the seven pounds fifty you owe me for the joining fee.’
I shake my head incredulously. ‘My dignity?’
Dan puts his glass back down onto the table. ‘Edward, Jane ran out on you yesterday, cleared out your flat, and went off to Tibet without telling you. I’d say your dignity is the last thing you should be worried about.’
As I reread the message, it doesn’t take me very long to realize that Dan’s probably right.
‘What if she doesn’t respond?’
‘Oh, she’ll respond,’ he says. ‘They always do.’
‘So,’ I say, through a mouthful of burger. ‘While we’re waiting to hear back from Sally, where do we start?’
Dan consults his spreadsheet. ‘Well, the most obvious one.’
‘Which is?’
‘We need to do something about the amount you’ve got on your plate.’
‘Are you saying that I’ve been neglecting Jane because I’ve been too busy?’
‘No, I mean in front of you, you fat bastard. Look at your burger—cheese and bacon, chips, mayonnaise…It’s no wonder you’re overweight.’
I look down at my admittedly chunky waistline. ‘It’s just a bit of a beer belly.’
Dan pokes me in the stomach. ‘Mate, you look like you’ve been living in the brewery.’
I push my plate away reluctantly. ‘Well, I suppose I could cut down a little on the food front.’
He pings my beer glass with his finger. ‘And the alcohol’s got to go too. Especially the beer.’
‘What?’
‘It’s very fattening.’
‘Really?’
Dan rolls his eyes. ‘I refer you to our conversation of a few moments ago. Why do you think it’s called a “beer belly”?’
‘Ah.’
Wendy walks past, and notices my half-eaten burger. ‘Something wrong with your food?’
I shake my head, and stare longingly at my plate. ‘I need to go on a diet. Apparently.’
Wendy
‘Already taken care of.’
‘How…What…When?’
‘Edward, Edward…’ says Dan. ‘Let me introduce you to a recent invention called “the internet”.’ He spins the screen round so I can see it. ‘Ta-da!’
‘I know what the internet is, Dan. How come you can get online here in the Jim? I didn’t know it was a hot spot.’
Dan smiles, ‘Anywhere around me is a hot spot. Especially my trouser area.’
‘Please, Dan. I’m eating.’
He taps his laptop affectionately. ‘The joys of wireless technology. The girl from PC World came round and set it up for me.’
I can sense a story coming on. ‘Oh yes?’
Dan nods. ‘Yup. I can now access the internet from my living room, bathroom,’ he breaks into a grin, ‘even in bed, as it turns out.’
I take the bait that he’s dangled in front of me. ‘In bed?’
‘Well, we had to test it. But in fact it’s got a range of about three hundred metres, which just happens to be the approximate distance from my flat to this pub.’
On the screen I recognize the ‘Friends Reunited’ logo. Beneath it is the heading ‘ University of Brighton, 1995 ’ , and a list of vaguely familiar names, including, of course, a recently updated entry for a ‘Dan Davis’.
He clicks on the ‘previous page’ button, and reads off the screen. ‘Here she is. Sally Hall, class of ’94. No photo, unfortunately. Living in London, working in Pimlico as a finance director…blah blah blah. Quite the career girl, it seems. And she was interested in you?’
I nod. ‘I was quite a catch.’
Dan looks at me pityingly. ‘Note the word “was” in that sentence. Anyway,’ he says, clicking the mouse button a few times, ‘this is what you wrote.’
I stare at him, aghast. ‘What do you mean “what I wrote”?’
Dan takes a sip of his wine, then reads his email back to me. ‘Dear Sally. Hi, Edward Middleton here. Remember me? I certainly haven’t forgotten you. Long time no see, but I need to ask you a favour.’
I go white. ‘Please tell me you didn’t click “send”?’
‘I could tell you that, but it would be a lie. Anyway—what have you got to lose? Apart from the seven pounds fifty you owe me for the joining fee.’
I shake my head incredulously. ‘My dignity?’
Dan puts his glass back down onto the table. ‘Edward, Jane ran out on you yesterday, cleared out your flat, and went off to Tibet without telling you. I’d say your dignity is the last thing you should be worried about.’
As I reread the message, it doesn’t take me very long to realize that Dan’s probably right.
‘What if she doesn’t respond?’
‘Oh, she’ll respond,’ he says. ‘They always do.’
‘So,’ I say, through a mouthful of burger. ‘While we’re waiting to hear back from Sally, where do we start?’
Dan consults his spreadsheet. ‘Well, the most obvious one.’
‘Which is?’
‘We need to do something about the amount you’ve got on your plate.’
‘Are you saying that I’ve been neglecting Jane because I’ve been too busy?’
‘No, I mean in front of you, you fat bastard. Look at your burger—cheese and bacon, chips, mayonnaise…It’s no wonder you’re overweight.’
I look down at my admittedly chunky waistline. ‘It’s just a bit of a beer belly.’
Dan pokes me in the stomach. ‘Mate, you look like you’ve been living in the brewery.’
I push my plate away reluctantly. ‘Well, I suppose I could cut down a little on the food front.’
He pings my beer glass with his finger. ‘And the alcohol’s got to go too. Especially the beer.’
‘What?’
‘It’s very fattening.’
‘Really?’
Dan rolls his eyes. ‘I refer you to our conversation of a few moments ago. Why do you think it’s called a “beer belly”?’
‘Ah.’
Wendy walks past, and notices my half-eaten burger. ‘Something wrong with your food?’
I shake my head, and stare longingly at my plate. ‘I need to go on a diet. Apparently.’
Wendy
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