The plan was KD would come over at 4.00pm and we'd go to the Persian delicatessan and buy the stuff for him to make us a lovely dinner and have a belated birthday meal for him.
At 6.30pm he arrives, without any ingredients after the shops are all shut- except the tesco express on the corner.
But I don't mind. Because it's him.
So in the end I make pasta and we drink a bottle of prosecco. Then I make him blow out the candles on a birthday cake (chocolate and almond torte, with brandy laced creme fraiche and strawberries). Then we finish off a bottle of rose and sit up talking until he misses his train and has to sleep on the sofa.
We listen to old blues music and gospel and talk a bit about politics, a bit about life, a bit about science and reality and art and music and old westerns and girls and everything. Like we do every time he comes over.
Anyway, after tea and toast and Joy Division and Its Fate magazine I kick him out at about 1.00pm because I have to go to a meeting about my dissertation course next year! (the course is about poverty and clothing in the 19th century) And I get the go ahead to research my propossed subject which is cross dressing.