Life was rolling along quite nicely, considering I’d found myself single after too many years of marriage to remember.
I had rented a home of my own and furnished it with some pieces I loved, sourced from Facebook’s marketplace and the local Buy, Swap, Sell sites. I was comfortable enough even if the world was looking new and a bit daunting to me.
Then this bloke turned up.
I’d ‘known’ him for 7 or 8 years on Facebook after being connected by a mutual friend. We’d had little to do with each other in that time. I’d looked at his posts and figured we had nothing much in common. Still, rather than unfriend him in the annual “friend cull” I left him there. He had a nice face and he wasn’t bothering me. That was enough.
Then one day, out of the blue, he sent me a message.
I’d been working on a book and I’d shared some extracts on my Facebook page. He’d read them and liked what he’d seen.
Bad me. I hadn’t picked him as a book lover. I was certainly wrong about that.
We got into the habit of talking to each other each week or every few days. I liked what I heard and looked forward to chatting with this new and unexpected friend.
You know how it goes…
Mr Shaggy suggested we meet so one evening he came for dinner.
That was the start of it all.
