The sound of my house phone calling me. A quick look at the number on the screen, and I ignored it as it was not a number I recognised. I surmised it was probably someone trying to sell me double glazing/loft insulation/tell me I had £3670 of miss sold PPI/or I could benefit from solar panels. (Pick your choice).
A few seconds later my mobile rang.
Caller: “Hi favourite Uncle, This is your favourite Niece”
Me: “Bugger off. I haven’t got one”
Caller: “Yes you have. It’s me ****”. (name obscured to protect you from the spawn of satan).
Me: “Oh hi ****”.
****: “Dear favourite Uncle (suspicion is starting to set in), can I pretty please, come up and see you on saturday?”
Me: “Oh that would be fine, look forward to seeing you”. What time will you be up”.
Me: Ok. See you then.
****: “Can you do me a little favour”?
I now realise I’m about to be sucker punched.
Me: “And what would that be?
****: “Would it be possible that you could take me to Gatwick on Sunday”?
Me: “What time”?
Me: “ That’ll be fine. We can have lunch and then have plenty of time to get there.
****: “No dear Uncle, 6.30 in the morning.”
Me: “That’s Ok we can get there in plenty of time if we leave here at six”
****: “No dear favourite Uncle, the flight leaves at 0630. I need to be there at 0430” .
Me: (realising the horror of it, and having been played like a pike in a pond) . Meekly replies, “OK”.
The likely outcome:
Devil’s spawn Favourite Niece will spend Saturday night drinking copious quantities of wine on Saturday night with Mrs FE with the consequence that there will be a flat panic when the devil’s spawn Niece is having to be literally tipped out of bed late in order to have a chance of catching her flight.
The upshot is, in the near future, you will read about a driver who was banned from driving for three years for overtaking a police car on the M23, being clocked at 143 MPH.
Oh and she want’s me to pick her up on her return.
****. If you are reading this. Could I be jesting? Or not?
Do reply if you read this post.
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