A Failure To Communicate

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

This is Chews Lane. I suppose it's a bit like Multrees Walk in that it is a trendy little side-street. It doesn't have the high-end designer shops, but it is usually full of hipsters eating sushi.

Because of that high-rise built above it, and and the mirrored glass, I think it looks like that bit in "Inception" where Ellen Page is wandering about in Leonardo di Caprio's subconscious and it all goes a bit mad.

I have nothing much to report today. I humiliated myself when I asked Smock for Friday off because Cazza has booked me for a trip to Palmerston North that day.

"What are you doing there?" she asked.
"I don't actually know," I said.
"Are you meeting friends?"
"I'm not entirely sure. I think Cazza knows some people."
"How are you getting there?"
"I think we're flying?"

I had to admit that Cazza had given me all these details but what I heard was, "Next Friday blah blah blah Palmerston North blah blah blah."

Smock mocked me. But really it is Cazza's fault. If she wants me to pay attention she needs to throw key words in there, like "CHOCOLATE" or "MOJITO" or "BIG BUMS".

See? It totally works! I've got your BIG BUMS attention now, right?

S.