They all laughed. “I don’t understand that cultural reference,” I said.
“However, to clarify, I’m an atheist, and I’m not consumer oriented,
so the midwinter shopping festival otherwise known as Christmas is of little interest to me.”
I went back to my work, hoping it would inspire them to do the same.
They are like small children, easily distracted, and content to spend what feels like hours
discussing trivialities and gossiping about people they don’t know.
“Sounds like somebody had a bad experience in Santa’s grotto back in the day,” said Billy, and then, thankfully, the phone rang.
I smiled sadly. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of bad experiences I’d had, back in the day.
It was an internal call: Raymond, asking if I wanted to go and visit Sammy again with him tonight. A Wednesday.
I’d miss my weekly chat with Mummy. I’d never missed one, not in all these years.
But then, what could she actually do about it, after all? There couldn’t be much harm in skipping it, just this once,
and Sammy was in need of nutritious food. I said yes. Our rendezvous was scheduled for five thirty.
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