Mr D and I were talking about our late friend, Steve last night. (Many of you may remember my previous posts about Steve who passed away last summer after a long and brave battle against cancer).
We'd found some old photos on his laptop and were having a laugh looking through them. That train of thought must have carried through to this morning because while I was on my way to work, sitting in a queue of traffic, my mind began to wander (well, something had to, the bloody car wasn't going anywhere), and I found myself thinking about good times with Steve.
Then I felt myself start to get a little teary. So I allowed myself a 'moment,' then I decided; 'right, traffic's moving again. I need to clean myself up because I'll be at work in ten minutes.'
So, I was sure that I had a little travel pack of tissues in my bag, which was sitting beside me on the passenger seat of my car, and I rummaged blindly in the bag, feeling for them, until evenutally my hand grasped something small and vaguely rectangular wrapped in crinkly sellophane.
I triumphantly withdrew apparent tissue pack from the bag, only to find it was, in fact, an individual, shrink-wrapped chicken fillet that I was taking for my lunch.
I grumbled to myself; "oh FFS! I can't wipe my nose on a bloody chicken fillet!!"
Then the sheer absurdity of what I said hit me, and within a second I went from wistful sniffling to giggling uncontrollably.
It occurred to me that that's exactly the kind of thing that would have tickled Steve; in fact, he'd probably have gone off and written a limerick about it or something.
And I never did find any tissues - still, I guess that's what sleeves are for - right?