Alannah says she’s got some Stinking Bishop for you.
S
Simen Pells
CAO (Chief Awesomeness Officer)
Cabbidge
An endangered species of lichen was re-introduced to Somerset to offset the impact of this email
What’s he harping on about now? Must be short of things to do today. Simon has spent his career working for startups with ludicrous names, in roles with ludicrous job titles doing who knows what (probably something ludicrous). Shouldn’t criticise though, he has a big house in Horfield and probably (definitely) didn’t need help to buy it from our parents, who think his career is on a par with Mark Zuckerberg’s – while I’m not even sure Mother Pells knows what I do.
I make a mental note to reply to him later, then message Mother Pells about her birthday party, which I haven’t workedout how to deal with yet. I go with ‘I could bring a starter – and I’m sure Alannah will make her legendary Aussie pavlova!’
I also message Josie and thank her for some beetroot hummus she left on my front step on day six – I didn’t answer the door when she rang the bell and lay on the living room floor for a while until she went away. She replies immediately saying that they are in Oxford for a few days ‘so we’ll hopefully see you soon’. Then she signs off, as jolly as ever: ‘Happy new year if I haven’t said that already! xx’
I send Gabe a GIF of Moira Rose fromSchitt’s Creeklooking really excited because a) he’s rewatching it too and b) I am trying to create some vague sense of build-up for when I see him. This won’t be until next week though as he’s back in Uttoxeter helping his dad move into a nursing home, and I have to go to London for my first Youth Review, which sounds like it could potentially involve paper pants again. Who cares though, I will probably look brilliant in them. I’m also going to have lunch with Merlyn. And see Nandy of course.
I’m coming to London next week, you around?
For you, mofo – always.
Good… need to talk. It’s a biggie.
You finally had a wank?
Something like that. I’ll message you, I think it’ll be Thursday.
Looking forward to seeing your resting bitch face.
Just you wait.
I can’t wait to see her reaction. But for now, it’s just me and my bloody gorgeous young face. I eat, sleep, look at myself in the mirror, drink, finishSchitt’s Creek, look at myself in the mirror, eat, sleep, use Gwyneth’s electricals (a lot – wow, I’d forgotten how fun that could be), look at myself in the mirror, laugh, sleep, cry, and wonder what the hell is going to happen next. This is what I’ve wanted for so long, what I’ve been searching for with every serum, supplement and solution I have tried, bought or reviewed over the past decade or so. I do feel happy. It just feels like quite an intense, hysterical sort of happy, like I’ve won the lottery but can’t tell anyone or start spending the money yet.
Change is good. Change is needed. Last time change came it took Father Pells away, but it’s time for some positive change. For a change. Too many changes? So what. What’s so good about the status quo? I know everyone else is quite happy with some HRT and a dry robe, but I’m not ready for that yet, I’m not done. And I’ve got this second chance. Itislike a lottery win. Iama winner. This is my time at last, another go at life, before I shuffle off to Sue’s for a slice of lardy cake.
