‘Sorry, I’d love to, but I can’t make Thursday,’ I replied. ‘I have to go to a tarot card reading or the evil spirits will become angry with me again.’

Liz gave me the kind of look that I was used to receiving from Sophie, one composed of disappointment and bemusement in equal measures.

‘Oh, well, maybe some other time, then,’ she said.

‘Yes, I’d like that very much,’ I responded, smiling flirtatiously. ‘How about . . .’

How about what exactly? A drink? An evening of cribbage? A day out at the Derwent Pencil Museum? And when? Next Tuesday? Tonight!? Three years hence?

It suddenly occurred to me that while my brain was rifling through the options (of which there were many and yet absolutely none at all), I was still smiling flirtatiously – except that by now it must be coming across more as a fixed grin or an unsettling leer, as I noticed the puzzled look on Liz’s face. My main priority had to be to bring my sentence to an end.

‘. . . some other time?’ I finished, lamely.

‘Y-e-s,’ she said slowly.

I was saved from further embarrassment by Kaylee.

‘What’s this I hear about a ticket going spare?’ she said.

‘A friend of mine has written a play,’ answered Liz. ‘But be warned, it’s all rather gruelling stuff: poverty, depression, suicide et cetera.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ said Kaylee. ‘We’ll just have to grim and bear it.’

Wednesday May 9th

Nietzsche Abhors a Vacuum

the

will

to

power

a

hoover

was

not

a Friedrich

manoeuvre

‘You see, Brian, when a man is in love he endures more than at other times; he submits to everything.’

Thus spoke Tomas of Nietzsche, after he’d hoovered up the crumbs of today’s Twix from under my desk. I had confessed to him my crush on Liz, alongside my creeping despair that she might only like me for my poetry. It was a conversation I had been trying to have with the cat for several weeks now but having received very little by way of advice, Tomas was the next best thing.

‘All this Twitter nonsense can only get you so far. You must talk to her properly,’ he urged. ‘Ask her out on a date.’

‘I can’t!’ I cried. ‘Every time I try to talk to her, I end up with paralysis of the brain and tongue.’

‘But you must try, Brian! What is the worst that could happen?’

‘She says no? Or laughs in my face? Or, worse, agrees to meet up?’

‘Stop worrying about such nonsense. You must believe in yourself. Do not live your life in fear of rejection.’

‘I suppose you’re going to tell me next that what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.’

Tomas shrugged.

‘This is all very well, Tomas, but how do I talk to her? What do I say?’