Dear Roberta Henry, Thank you for subscribing to our mailing list! Expect to be first to know about our offers and deals with codes delivered straight to your inbox. As a thank you for signing up, here is an exclusive offer just for you! Get any starter or desert for FREE when you buy any Main Meal via our Time To Eat! takeaway app with the code: MYSTARTDES Hope to feed you soon, Time To Eat! That’s tea sorted for tonight after my first gym session! I route through my wardrobe, searching for something exercise appropriate before Will gets home from the station and freaks out about the lack of floor space. I’m not sure I’ve told you that there are two Bobbies living under this roof, have I? That is my favourite joke. Will cringes every time which makes it even better! As much as it looks like the contents of my draws have been tossed about like pancakes, it’s an organised mess- much like my ‘naughty and nice nook’ behind the fridge; no relation to Christmas. Well not anymore anyway. It’s an all-year-round thing! Once you find the perfect spot by getting rid of a few unnecessary items, like, the iron, you might as well give the new nook a permanent use. I’m not one to waste space! I rummage around the top shelf of the wardrobe near the back of my trouser section and grab what feels like a pair of leggings. “These will d-” I look up and realise I’m tugging at a leg of a pair of bright orange tights. “-oh! Not quite the look I’m going for!”
"And what look is that, Ripple?"
Ripple is Will’s most recent nickname for me ever since he woke up to find melted flakes of the scrummy but oh so crumbly Galaxy treat all over the bed sheets a few months ago. He swears he started calling me it because “you never know just how far a small ripple will go” and “ it creates profound waves” and something about power and beauty, and that’s how he sees me, like a ripple that has a never-ending capabilityto create, and… move, or grow, and… some other rubbish! But I know it’s just about the actual ripple and all that stuff is a joke. I think. Will squeezes through the tight gap between the bedroom door and the pile of hoodies accidentally acting as a doorstop.
“I’m not exactly sure, Will, but have you ever seen me wear these?” I’m trying to recall a time that I would have worn something so hideous- or a time in my life they would have been even remotely acceptable- and really hoping that my legs haven’t been seen dressed as two giant Wotsits. “No, but my mother had a pair identi-"... I immediately let them ping back to their rightful, hidden position behind the jeans. They seem to be the closest thing I own to sports leggings, and apparently the mother-in-law’s attire! I should really have a sort out. Orange tights! Ew. I bend my knees and lower myself down to the floor slightly less smoothly than I was aiming for- getting some, what do they call it, ‘plank’, ‘squat’ practice in before my big gym session later! When I first met Will he was in much better shape than I was, maybe he might have some old gym clothes in the back of his wardrobe from when he used to do parkour on Thursday nights with Jack in the old school building. I never could understand how he thought running and jumping over a few obstacles was a productive way to spend an evening when it meant missing out on The Great British Bake-off. Though I do remember thinking how trim and slightly, (dare I say) built Will looked at the alter in his navy tux- which did make walking up that dreaded aisle a tad bit easier. I shuffle a few feet over to the right towards his wardrobe... “Don’t even think about it Bobbi.” He hates me stealing his clothes. One time... “ONE TIME WILL!” ... I tried on Will’s jumper that his Nan bought him for Christmas one year in the Marks and Spenser’s sale. Only she’s apparently never heard of Marks’ men’s range. She’s convinced its all unisex which I totally can’t get my head around, but anyway, he wasn’t too impressed with his salmon pink cable knit present. Not until months later, at least, when I tried it on with my new jeans and spilt ketchup from my hotdog down the front. Of course then he was devastated that his Christmas present from his beloved Nan was “ruined forever!” (That reminds me, we need more ketchup, we used the last of it on the cheese toasties for last night’s supper.) He hated the jumper in the first place and didn’t even bother trying it on for her- he came up with some petty excuse about having hurt his shoulder free running over a pommel horse thing with Jack, and pulling it on over his head would only aggravate it more. My phone camera was disappointed.
I guess a trek into town seems necessary if making it to the gym in anything other than jeans or florescent carrot-coloured tights is a requirement. Now what was it we needed from the shops? Ketchup, brown sauce, vinegar, prawn crackers (extra for tonight- the free bag they give you in the Chippy for spending over £20 never quite feels like enough between us anymore), erm, strawberry laces and... mint matchsticks!
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