The dirty beanbag

It was our last day on a holiday abroad. Travelling back by coach, I was amazed by the view of the mountains.

We got a boat back the rest of the way. Freddie Mercury was on there, but him when he was dying, he looked very ill. I wanted to go outside to get fresh air, but I couldn’t go outside because that was premium. So I sat by a window and wondered what song I’d play Freddie on piano if there was one there – I wouldn’t do one of his songs because he’d feel pressured to sing along.

Stopped off in South Africa. I had a bean bag with sexual positions on. It was black, with white and black stick figures (the sort you see on a toilet sign). Everyone was commenting on it as we walked through the street. I donated it to a hospital and then suggested I turn it inside out. I did but you could still see the images.

When I got home, I was in the kitchen doing something while mom was washing up. She said she’d decided to book a holiday to Switzerland. I asked questions and hinted out to see who she was going with, and she said that the other ticket was for me if I wanted to go, which I did.