17 January 2009

Always the Last Word

I’ve only been to Canned Ham’s house a couple of times, and always from my place, so when I dropped her home after work yesterday evening we were coming from the city and she had to show me the way.

She convinced me to stay for a glass of champagne, which turned into I’m-not-sure-how-many because my hostess was keen to provide refills when the glass was only half empty. After a couple of hours of much convivial chat, I decided I really had to go*. As I got in my car The Ham had a look of concern on her face.

“Do you know where you’re going, haze?”

I looked at her. “Yeah. Home.”


While we were scoffing brie and guzzling champagne The Ham’s daughter came in the front door. She’s turning 21 soon and Ham decided then and there that I should make her party invitations. We chatted about what she might like for a little while and then I remembered some thank you cards I had in the car that I made a while ago but am only just getting round to using. I brought one in to show the young lass. She quite liked the look of it.

Later, as I backed the car out of the driveway, The Ham called out to me. I stopped and she came over to the window: “Now, haze, I’m not going to make you a card, but thank you for the lift home all the same.”

*A couch and a DVD required my urgent attention.

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