I asked him.
He rang back (finally), we had a chat about the file I'd emailed him, where I hang my knickers to dry and the fact it's half term next week. As he was about to hang up, I said:
"Just before you go - it's been bugging me all week: why d'you care about what my mother thinks?"
"I don't. It's just the couple of times I've met her... like the time in Safeway, she was a bit..." and he tailed off without really explaining what she was. "But I don't care, no."
Now, that incident he mentioned happened about four or five years ago. It's been preying on his mind that long. Interesting.
Thoughts?
p.s. Yep, all in one sandwich. Tasty.
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