Well, she’s gone. My beloved Elise Jones, editor, co-conspirator, and fruit-loop extraordinaire. She and her amazingly tall companion have departed. Woe. Sorrow. Loneliness. I’m weeping quietly as I scoop the last of the koala bear poop into a forlornly discarded corkbobble hat. My house no long echos to the gentle thrumming of didgeridoos. Shortly I shall console myself by sitting in the sunshine which Elise and her Amazingly Tall have kindly left behind them (they brought the three hottest days this summer with them – wasn’t that kind? No doubt as soon as their plane leaves the tarmac in Belfast airport the clouds will roll in and we shall resume our torrential normality.) but the garden table won’t be same without her laughing back at me from the other side.
This is us in the act of saying goodbye. Elise is the elegantly behatted beauty on the left, I am the squinting gargoyle crouched at her side. Yes I am in my pajamas, sloppy trollop that I am – but hey, it’s bedtime somewhere, right?
Oh I miss her already!
COME BACK JONES! THERE’S STILL RUM LEFT IN THE BOTTLE AND WE FORGOT TO EAT THE LEFTOVER CHINESE TAKEOUT FROM THE FRIDGE!!!!!!!