Nick is jetlagged. He Skypes me at seven a.m. Sydney time, full of beans. After he has showed me the view from the window (sunny but windy), his new thongs (flip-flops to you) and a gorgeous, perfect mango that he plans to eat for breakfast, he gets out a bright blue Ukulele and plays Twist and Shout. I sing along in a freezing cold London winter’s night. Who invented Skype? It surely has made a great contribution to the quality of my life.
“Please bring that Ukulele in the camper van,” I exclaim. “Oh, ok,” he replies. Nick envisages our forthcoming camper van sojourn as being something like a small slice of Woodstock. I anticipate it being more like Father Ted.
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