Karim is back from his vacances. He is very sick with a head cold and a chest infection, but tells me he has a fear of doctors, and will not go. So when I casually offered him some Sudafed, he leapt on the packet like a hungry leopard. “How many of them should I take -two? Three? Four?” “ONE!!!!” I shrieked!!! But he had already hoofed three of them into him, before he even asked if he should take them with water. He then returned with my ‘present’ from Tunisia. Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. I can’t make out if it is a handbag or a bonnet, but wearing it in either sense would lead to similar levels of social exclusion. It is Revolting. But it was very very nice of him. He tells me it is hand made. Men should never be allowed in shops. Oh god I hope his sister didn’t make it or anything. It might come in handy anyway. For storage. In a drawer. In the dark.
He makes me laugh though. I was at home tonight after work, watching something mindless on the television (as our Wifi is on the blink and ‘mindless’ is the only type of telly I can understand in French), and there was a woman on the Meilleur Patisserie, or the French equivalent of the Great British Bake Off, whose name was Chelsea. Karim walked in just as Chelsea was having some sort of chocolate egg related emotional breakdown, and was highly tickled by he situation -“CHELSEA is her name?!” he says, with great incredulity. “Why not AC Milan???” He might give borderline inappropriate presents, but he’s great entertainment value.