It was turning out to be one of the those nights, an aching tiredness and desperate need to rest, to hide, to forget. Tossing, turning, and increasingly frustrated that sleep evaded her well into the early hours, she hit angry at 2am that Sunday morning. Unfortunately for him.
It hardly seemed fair, after all the pain he’d put her through. They’d been dating for a while, and she’d bought him the tickets for the speed boat trip as a gift a few months before, because she knew he’d love it … the wind in their hair, the exhilaration of the ride, a special day together for their memory bank. It was meant to be with her, not with someone else. So she emailed there and then to cancel. Then finally went to sleep.
Her day was busy and it was not until she checked her emails later that evening that she remembered. He had gone to London, been told the tickets were no longer valid, and was not best pleased!
Not her finest hour. Indicative perhaps of her hurt. Nonetheless, not her finest hour, as pointed out by her brother when she recounted the tale. Her nephew, listening in, was however rather impressed.
“Wow, Auntie Julie, you go girl!! From now on I’m going to call you Mad Auntie Julie ……
and so, Maj was born!