Mum: Sorry. Here now. Just needed to put tea bag in bin. Yes, darling, he wants me to pass on a MSG. He says you’ve blocked him and no MSGS are getting through?

Me: Yes, I did block him Mum.

(I didn’t want to drunk-dial him.)

Mum: He’s been in touch with me quite a lot over the past few weeks. Asking me this & that.

(He what???)

Me: Oh my god Mum, what has he said?

She doesn’t reply for a minute or two.

I wait.

Me: Mumm????

Mum: I didn’t want to disturb U with some of the other messages. I did tell him to stop, and to not think about going around to UR flat. But this time, the boy seems a bit desperate, Olivia.

I hate it when my mum calls me Olivia. Yes, it’s technically my full name on my birth certificate, but I hate it. I am Olive. By refusing to call me Olive, she refuses to embrace who I am. I don’t have time to call her out on it. I can’t help but feel a sense of relief from this news, a surge of happiness. He wanted to visit the flat? This makes me feel … weirdly … better.

Me: Jesus. Can’t believe you didn’t tell me all this. Yes you can send on the message, Mum.

Mum: How do I do it, darling? I’m just putting on my glasses.

Me: Copy and paste it, Mum.

Mum: How?

Me: Highlight the text with your finger. Then copy. Then open up my text and paste it.

Another few minutes pass.

There is a long, long pause. No typing.

Mum: Oh.

Me: What?

Mum: I just copied and pasted it back 2 Jacob.

Me: MUM. I CAN’T COPE WITH YOU.

Mum: Sorry darling! He won’t know! I’m sure he’ll just ignore it.

Me: To be fair, he’ll probably just think you’re being a weirdo with technology, which is the case.

Me: Mum???

Mum: Yes.

Me: Send me the text!!!

Mum: I am doing it.

Me: God … hurry up.

I immediately feel bad and add ‘Love you.’

Eventually, my phone pings again. She must have finally figured it out. I start fidgeting, flicking through the pages of my book, and then fiddle with my seat tray, annoying the passenger in front who keeps grunting. I sit on my phone so I can’t look. I’m good at distracting myself on the Internet. I’ll do that. I put some searches into YouTube.

Why did Geri Halliwell leave the Spice Girls?

Best moments of Gavin and Stacey

A look inside Mandy Moore’s new multimillion-dollar LA home

Can you be allergic to sperm?

Am I depressed or just lazy?

Are we in the Matrix?

Oh fuck off Clearblue adverts.

I look for further distraction. I’m not ready to look at Jacob’s message just yet. My journalist instinct takes me to Twitter and I scroll and scroll, immediately reminded what a bizarre place it is.

@leana_scott

Young people, stop saying YOU’RE TIRED. I get major mum rage when they moan about being tired. YOU ARE NOT TIRED, I’M TIRED, PARENTS ARE TIRED.