Twenty-Nine
Memory 17
The day after my birthday party, Viggo turned up on my doorstep.
I didn’t answer the door because I was still in bed. The party had ended at midnight and Mum and Dad and I had kept the bad nineties’ music going and cleaned up the house. I didn’t get to bed until nearly two. And, don’t get me wrong; this wasn’t, like, “the latest I’d ever stayed up” or anything pathetic like that. Jed and I had stayed awake till sunrise heaps of times, binge-watching box sets or listening to music or just talking into the wee hours. I was used to late nights and zombie mornings, but, nonetheless, after a two am bedtime, it’s nice to just stay in bed until you feel human, or until someone brings you doughnuts.
Nobody brought me doughnuts. So in bed I stayed.
Ergo, it was Mum who an
