THERE’S nothing quite like a lie-in on a cold, wet and windy Saturday morning so when I saw the weather forecast for last weekend I set my heart on a leisurely morning with several cups of coffee, a good book and the work phone switched off.
As he rain lashed down outside and I enjoyed a long-over due catch up phone call up with a friend my mobile buzzed to indicate there was another call waiting.
Glancing at the screen to check who was calling, I saw to my surprise it was the housemate.
Not sharing my penchant for laziness she tends to be up and around by some ungodly hour and by mid morning even on a Saturday is almost ready for lunch, but it was still less than usual to receive a phone call from her as she was well within yelling distance.
“Can I give you a call back,” I said to my equally puzzled pal. “There must be something wrong. She’d never phone me from downstairs just for chat,” I added.
Deciding to follow her lead and return the phone call - on the off chance she had slipped out without me realising and not because I was too warm and comfy to leave my bed - I pressed re-dial and got no reply.
By now beginning to believe there was a drama brewing I ventured to the top of the stairs and called down. Again there was no response.
Thoroughly expecting to be met by a crisis thanks to the complete radio silence I was experiencing and toying with the idea of ringing The Mother, who is much better at catastrophe than I am, I tentatively made my way down the stairs to find the housemate happily ensconced reading the paper in what we call the morning room - not because we’re posh but because it’s where we sit in the morning.
“Are you ok?” I asked
“I am,” she replied. “Are you?”
“I’m fine,” I responded. “So why did you phone me?”
“Because you didn’t replied to my text?” she replied.
“So why did you text me?” I asked, still nowhere near the bottom of the puzzle.
“Because I heard an enormous bang from upstairs, followed by a really loud groan, so I thought you’d fallen or something and hurt yourself.”
“Ok…so you thought I was lying upstairs badly hurt and that the best course of action was to text me?
“Yes.”
“And when I didn’t reply to the text you thought your next step was to ring me?”
“Yes”
“And when I didn’t reply to that phone call the logical step was to make yourself another cup of tea and carry on reading the paper?”
“Yes”
I gazed at her in shock.
“So as far as you knew I had suffered an horrific accident, was lying somewhere upstairs, not responding to texts or phone calls and you couldn’t even be bothered to clamber up the stairs and find out. I’ve always said that if I keeled over in the bathroom in the middle of the night I’d be there until morning because you wouldn’t hear me shouting for help but I did think you’d respond if you actually thought something had happened to me,” I stormed.
For a moment she looked up from her paper and gazed at me and I thought my words had made a mark.
“I wonder what that crash and groan was if it wasn’t you?” she asked with a shrug.