Yesterday, I was thinking so much about snails I forgot to mention things less mundane.
Although I woke quite early, Ming already was downstairs and speaking to someone on the phone - in Martian.
My Martian is elementary.
Count to ten.And
I know the days of the week.I can say:-
I love you
I'm in very great danger of being abducted.And
A newspaper please.
When he had finished, Ming brought tea.
Why - I asked - hadn't he called me so I could have spoken to Didcott?
But it wasn't Didcott, he said. It was a prison guard - from the bus.
(A prison guard?)
Then he said he had to go, dressed quickly - and went.
I spent the rest of the day washing school clothes, agreeing with Worthing that homework is a bind but would he mind doing it anyway? - and throwing buckets of water at the honeysuckle bush in an attempt to wash away aphids.
That kind of thing.
* * * * *Ming didn't crawl into bed until well after midnight.
"It's Didcott," he said. "We've got to get him off that bus. They're not all human there."
"I know," I said. "I heard you this morning, talking Martian."
"But that was a guard!" he said. "I knew about them."
(He hadn't told me!)
"Not guards, the prisoners. Some are from Pluto."
I was tired. I wasn't thinking properly. It seemed so unlikely - and so ludicrous - that I grinned.
"It's not funny." (He snapped.) "This is serious."
And he rolled to face the window.
So there I was - awake - and staring into darkness.