I have several emails. The first is from Kim, wanting to get together to talk, “so I can get this over with and get my refund.” I told her I was in London! Gosh! Leave me alone! The second is from Jacqui, asking ‘How is it going?’ I reply saying, ‘Fantastic! Just like before!’ Then there’s a message from Sandra Mansell, my quietly spoken spa owner client, whose photo my dad had a thing for. It just came in about twenty minutes ago. Dear Celine, Had a lovely time last night. Although it was NOT what I expected! Your father is an extremely adorable, charismatic man, and SO interesting! If only he were forty years younger! Please thank him again for a lovely evening. I was very flattered. Sandra. ~ * * * ~ Father? Evening? Flattered? What is she on about? I quickly type back telling her where I am, and add, I’m sorry, Sandra, I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about! I am about to ring my father now, to find out. Then I ring my father. Of course I know he won’t pick up when he sees it’s me.
