It’s lovely and sunny today, so I have invited my friend over for a picnic.
‘Would you like to come over for a picnic?’ I asked him earlier today. He did not reply. Unpeturbed, I rushed out and bought as many edible delicacies as I could find. (One- a Feast ice-cream bar. Which I ate on the walk back from the shops. I will have to tell him that he needs to bring his own food).
We chatted amiably about other things once I returned from my quick ice-cream break. ‘So are you coming to sit on my lawn and eat delicious food after work?’ I asked him again. ‘Do you remember that blogpost you wrote about your neighbours ages ago?’ He asked in reply.
I knew instantly what he was referring to. An old piece, in which I explain that one of my daily pleasures is perving on my neighbours as they get changed.
I fear I have revealed too much about my charmingly odd home-life. Either that, or he wants me to invite the neighbours to my picnic. Which I might have to do, considering that at this moment the only confirmed guest is me.