I doubted I’d be enjoying anything of the sort and didn’t want to get into a verbal contract.
‘Goodnight, Tore.’ I closed the door and breathed in the smoky air as the fire crackled in the silence. The sound was kind of nice. I mean, itwascosy. If cosy meant small. I closed the blinds in the lounge and stood as close to the fire as I could without setting myself alight, enjoying the burn on my thighs. It was pitch-black outside and I couldn’t see anything through the darkness. What if I was murdered in my crocheted bed? Invaded by wild reindeer or a blubbery walrus somehow smothered me in my sleep. I couldn’t even tell Mum and Dad I’d arrived safely. Would they be worried? Should they be? I was thirty-two after all. It wasn’t really their problem that I’d signed myself up to who knows what, who knows where. I eyed the marshmallows suspiciously. Could I trust them? They might be laced with a hallucinogenic or powdered with ayahuasca to alter my mind.I could be knocked unconscious… and then smothered by a blubbery walrus.
I sniffed one and gave it a tentative lick. No effect, but it did taste sugary and marshmallow-y. I cautiously bit into it, and it was… bloody amazing. A tiny cloud of gooey deliciousness. I stuffed another two in and pushed them into my cheeks.
‘Chubby bunny,’ I said to myself in the mirror and half-smiled, my eyes still and sad.
Then I shoved in a third.
‘Chubby bunny,’ I said again. It was more of a struggle this time but still would have been clear enough to pass. Mark and I had always played it on bonfire night – he could put away six marshmallows in his chipmunk cheeks, but four was my limit.
I was ready for my small, definitely-not-a-double bed. I jumped in the shower, which was surprisingly hot and powerful, and stayed under the jet far too long, feeling dizzy as I dried myself on the fluffy towels and put on my silk pyjamas, which were slightly impractical as I slithered under the blankets and turned off the lights. It had been A DAY. I’d worry about the Wi-Fi and the food and drink situation, and the weather and the retreat not being fit for purpose, tomorrow. For now, I was safe and warm, and in bed – at last.
A piggy in hygge (three).
