Consuelo and I lay in bed one morning in Spring 2010. She turned over to reach for her mobile and read the text that she had just received. 'It's from you' she said. It was a message that I had sent her almost four years earlier, giving her instructions, when she first arrived in London, on how to get to my old house (which would become our old house) near Liverpool Street Station from Stansted Airport. She didn't complain at the time although she assumed that I had simply not bothered sending the information that she was expecting.
No comments:
Post a Comment