Talking to Ralph and the big white telephone

Dear Cath

Happy New Year!! How are you? How’s the hangover? Yeah, right, I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t but I, I do… of course I do.

Do you remember the Sambuca hangovers in Durban? All those years ago? Well this morning I was vividly reminded of it as Max was very very sorry for himself this morning. Not sorry enough to make me sympathetic mind but close enough. He couldn’t face coffee, tea, pizza, more beer, in fact the only thing he said, in a very small voice was, ‘Water, please, water.’ And proceeded to gasp like a freshly landed fish until I handed him a glass.

It didn’t stay inside long. In fact Lisa was hovering outside the bathroom, wondering who needed rescuing more, him or the toilet when I came downstairs and I asked her if he was talking to Ralph on the big white telephone and she had no idea what I was talking about.

I was shocked. Apparently they no longer use those words. Now they say Whitied. Whitied?? How does that work? I whitied everywhere, I am going to Whitie, he whitied… I dunno.

Somehow the white telephone makes a great deal more sense. I must be getting old.

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