|And then Jilly said, "We're going to need a bigger suitcase."|
The Raqasa (TR): Jilly, have you seen my yoga mat?
Jilly: You have a yoga mat?
TR: Yeah, it's a purple one. I thought I'd stored it in the cupboard under the shelf you live on.
Jilly: Darling, I have never seen you do yoga, much less use a yoga mat. Have you checked where you hide the cigarettes you don't smoke? Maybe the yoga mat you don't use is in the same place.
TR: Shut up, Jilly. The email said to bring a yoga mat or a large towel. Since I have a yoga mat, I am going to justify the money I spent on it and pack it.
20 minutes later.
TR: Ooh, here it is!
Jilly: It's grey.
TR: Yeah. So?
Jilly: You said it was purple. Purple would have been nicer. The grey one looks like a roll of dessicated elephant hide or something. How can you bring yourself to lie on that?
TR: I can't. I guess that's why I'd forgotten what it looked like. Do you know where my stick is?
Jilly: This is going to be a long afternoon, isn't it? Have you looked in the top of your wardrobe?
TR: (Perching on one leg on the edge of the bed's footboard so as to reach the top of the wardrobe) Look at me! I've invented 'bedroom Parkour'! Whee!
Jilly: If you break your ankle looking for it you won't be going anywhere. Focus!
The Raqasa spends a good long while searching the whole flat.
TR: This is ridiculous! How can such a tiny flat have so many nooks and crannies?
Jilly: Try the top of the wardrobe again.
TR: Well ... will you look at that. Huh.
Jilly: I'm going outside for a smoke.
TR: Hang on a tick. I need you to come and sit in the bag.
TR: To make sure there's room for you.
Jilly: You're not serious! I'm not travelling in there. Your dance shoes stink. Besides, it sends the wrong message. It's like you're embarrassed to be seen in public with me.
TR: Of course I'm embarrassed to be seen with you. I'm a grown woman lugging around a soft toy, fer chrissakes.
TR: Sorry, Jilly. You know how it is.
Jilly: I'm going outside to smoke. I may be some time.
TR: Aw, don't be sore. I'll tuck some ouzo in next to you, how's that?
Jilly: Look, I'll be back in five minutes. And you'd better damn well make some progress.
Ten minutes later.
Jilly: How's the packing going? AND WHAT THE SCALLOPS IS THAT?
TR: It's my 'tribute to Patricia Arquette in True Romance' bathroom bag in fetching pink leopard print vinyl.
Jilly: If I could narrow my eyes suspiciously at you, I would. Is it from Forever 21?
TR: It is, yeah. How did you ...
Jilly: Did you look at the bottom of the carry bag?
Jilly: Did you look at the horrors revealed about that chain on Wikipedia?
TR: I won't go there again. Well, not before next pay day anyway.
Jilly: Tsk. Really, I despair of you. All the facts are staring you in the face and still you can't walk past a £6 T-shirt. It's because of people like you that the world's in the state it's in. And I bet you haven't even packed underwear yet, have you?
TR: Actually, I have packed some, yeah. But I bet some of it was made in sweatshops so will you still let me wear it?
Jilly: Sarcasm is a very unbecoming shade on you, m'dear.
TR: I'm only getting defensive because I know you're right. Besides, there are worse things I can pack, like coin belts. Why do people still wear them anyway? Ghastly, heavy noisy things. Perhaps I should sell mine... Hey, can we take a break? It's still sunny outside and we could go have a gin and tonic on the deck.
Jilly: An idea so good it would give a jellyfish a hard-on. I'll cut the lemons. By the way, I'm not going to need a passport but you will. You know where yours is, right?