The Pick-Up

My Dear Princess and Dear Fellow,

Caro has got back into the swing of picking me up from the train station at the end of the day. Here she is leaving the house, as captured on SecurityCam.

She was a bit grumpy though. She was in the middle of work and was a bit stressed. I emphasised that she didn't NEED to pick me up, but she likes to get out, I think.

When we got home it didn't get any better. The internet kept crashing and Caro's company's VPN was slowing things down still further. There might have been some language.

Then Lynnie called. The pair of them set each other off. They got talking about Manda and her job at the Cordon Bluh and how she gets FREE pain au chocolat and tartlets and such. 

"Ugh! All we get is that stupid fruit that's been left to FESTER in the office!" complained Lynnie. "Or that someone has SNEEZED on and then FONDLED."

"No-one likes fondled fruit," countered Caro.

Then the pair of them got onto the subject of Lynnie's long weekend in Bordeaux. Caro asked if Lynnie's husband had avoided booking them into something on the 7th floor with no lift this time*.

"Well... no," replied Lynnie. "But we're not entirely sure where it is or how to get there." It seems it's some farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with a tram that stops a few miles away. 

"AND we arrive in the dark," announced Lynnie. "We'll probably get murdered while trying to get a French Uber."

All of this talk of murder and fondled fruit seemed to cheer Caro right up. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who got picked up today.

S.

* There's a whole story. As I'm sure you can imagine.