It starts out like a sane conversation

Any given day, we start a normal to and fro, Steve and I. Bit of banter, sharing facts, the usual.

And then it just gets silly.

He: Did your friend'sß book turn up? (referring to the book I won on Ebay)
Me: Yeah.
He: She's got that slightly ....
Me: Staring-eyed crazed look?
He: *ignoring* ... "I have a butterfly on my shoulder" look.
Me: Oh. That. (then defensively) Not everybody is morbidly fearful of moths and butterflies you know.
He: Seriously, what will you do if you turn up to do the front cover of your book and they say to you *mock airy-pompous stylist voice* "Ok, now we want you to stand .. in this field .. with the wind blowing your hair and .. just let the butterflies flutter around and one will land on your shoulder..." You'll freak out won't you?
Me: You mock.
He: In jest!

I like his faith that we're talking book cover photography already.



ß we have code, Steve and I. A "friend" could be anything from chocolate to Gloria to anything I am either remotely addictive about, have a current fetish for, talk about a lot or immerse myself in. I have cheese friends, wine friends, iced coffee friends... you get the picture.