grace, not prone to mood swings, fleeting trends or eras in fashion as all the other departments are concerned with. Denim-types just laugh at all the running about frantic to find the newest things to develop that surrounds their daily life.
A design room is a nuthouse of well dressed, great smelling suitably beautiful and neurotic types who think what they do in their own world is the most important thing in the world, when the truest, realest, oldest and newest thing is denim. Denim will never fade, (except when we want it to), there are those who cyclically claim it does, but this only strengthens our brand because denim loves it when the grown-ups don’t love us any more, it means we're doing a great job and on the right track, we’re rebellious and naughty..
…am I talking to myself again? Bloody hell, speak to Dr Shrink about this, is she back in the country?
I wonder suddenly, I think to myself, what this Daniel will be really like?
...well, I am about to find out aren't I?
“Driver, can you please pull-over at that Pret, I need tea? Thank you, want one?”
Chapter four, Monday:21ndctober2013, the middle part, keeping up? This part is current, no more time travel.
I have to call Daniel I have 7...no, 8 missed calls on my phone from him and I haven't even checked my email, what should I say?
PF: “Still OK for later, you won’t believe what I’ve got to tell you” another new Porsche I bet.
TC: “Yep, can’t wait to hear the thing you won’t tell me on the phone” nothing beats a Landrover, but I promise to oooh and aaahhh for my friend.
PF: “Don’t even try guessing” too late, she wants a white one next.
TC: “A face to face, must be important” true story, Pete is not good at holding news in usually, she’s a let it all out and deal with it type. Quite the opposite of me.
PF: “See you later” OK.
I am coming down the glass lift with a cup of tea in one hand, my phone in the other, a great view over the canal. I sometimes sit by the waterfront watching the ducks during lunch, just to get away from all the stupidity from upstairs. I don’t have the head for politics, I don’t care enough to worry about where I stand in their schemes, I just know I do what I do, better than anyone, they like me, but they don’t get what I actually do at all, and that’s a strange type of power. Happy in this thought I sit myself on a wooden slatted bench beside a barge, a trail of grey smoke swirls into the air, the smell of a wood burner coming from inside. I love that smell. I pull my parka tight around my body it almost goes around me twice. Sip my tea, whose lid is not quite keeping it hot and watch as a pair of geese swim past with their almost grown-up babies. Taking my phone out I attempt to placate everyone by at least answering some text messages.
It's hard being me.
TC: “Daniel, sorry I haven’t replied to your messages, I’ve been swamped” not exactly true, but I did make lots of tea today, I look down at my cup, yes lots of good work done today.
DP: “Drinking tea takes priority then? Well at least I know what’s important to you” how the fu..?
I almost drop my tea…well almost. I grip the cup tighter just in case.
I have the feeling someone’s close by. “Hello.” And Daniel sits next to me on the bench, casual and confident, smelling great, with a huge warm friendly smile. Trying to keep the shock from my face but my mouth is still open from being about to take a slurp of tea when he appeared, he offers his hand to me, but I’m struck with silence, not at all like me. My lips part but no sound comes out, I look at the hand I suspected is reaching out to shake mine but instead he is offering a large bag of giant chocolate buttons...also a favourite of mine. Such a contrast, this manly man, smelling great with tattoos and a car waiting offering me Cadbury's chocolate buttons! I glance numbly at my phone, still mute, like me, and put it away.
"Daniel,” I try but fail to hide my surprise, “what are you doing here?" I take a few buttons, well? Not even I have the will power to say