“I’d be happy to,” Sarah replied, in a tone that suggested that any happiness would be the grim satisfaction of garbage disposal rather than the pleasure of helping out a friend
When you’re floundering, it’s always nice to have a co-flounder, especially when they’re so fine, fit and Firthy that you lose control of your saucière and spill velouté all over the tablecloth.
He contemplated the prospect, like a condemned man having to choose between hanging or firing squad while his tea was getting cold.
Sarah’s one of those people who doesn’t like stains on things.
My misunderstanding was genuine at first, but I had enough presence of mind to let it remain fully prefixed.
She has a tendency to look at me with a detached fascination, like a zoologist who has just discovered a new species of beetle and found it wanting.
…where Leon did his ‘development work’, which is code for getting noticed by the senior partners, itself code for shameless brown-nosing.
Vivid Descriptions
She was wearing a bright colour like orange or purple, although that might have been someone else.
He had on a new overcoat, probably wool, if they make overcoats out of wool, but then again it might have been cashmere. It certainly looked a lot more impressive than my own coat, which has become a bit of a conversation-piece over the years, but I find that a chunky sweater compensates for its shortcomings, except the aesthetic ones.
Now that he’s started his own business, he looks more like a consultant somehow, even when not in work clothes. I couldn’t quite pin down what exactly was different, but Kim told me he’d trimmed his beard, got a decent haircut, and replaced his old rags with some high-end casualwear that actually fitted him for once, so it could have been that, I suppose.
They discussed matters energetically for about seven minutes, which doesn’t sound much but is hard work at that level of intensity. As they gestured and raged, I felt a Bonovian mixture of sympathy and relief that it wasn’t me, combined with a delusional nostalgia. I imagine that a retired boxer feels much the same when he sees a young upstart get seven bells knocked out of him.
Shameless Nerdspeak
The others nodded sadly, except Paul and Patrick, who had long since lost interest and were debating The Three-Body Problem, before moving on to the three-body problem. They weren’t making a lot of progress on the physics, but they managed to come to an armistice on the hyphenation.
He sounded like dead bodies were a bit of a bore to him – I suppose everything becomes mundane eventually. I never thought I’d get bored of instrumental variable analysis, but I don’t really bother with it anymore, except for work.
But Tilda was right – with all the serious talk about furniture and mortgages, there’s never any time for recreational etymology anymore, or the fun arguments we used to have about which economists would survive longest on a desert island or how time-travellers would play the futures markets. These days it’s all who’s getting married, who’s started a hedge fund, who’s been on Newsnight – mundane stuff like that.
“Sure, I want to be married with kids one day, but I want to do more than exploit the arbitrage created by our complementary skill sets and preferences. I want a soulmate.”
Life Hacks
Dale once said to me that when a girlfriend tells you she’s fine, you must always take her at her word, regardless of tone, expression or body language. There’s obviously nothing to worry about, and any non-verbal expressions of displeasure are just your imagination. It turned out that he was joking, but it’s good advice all the same.
At first the whole thing looks like some impossible secret knowledge that you need two X chromosomes to understand. For example, it turns out that there are colour and pattern combinations that “clash”, and that a mix of horizontal and vertical stripes is considered by many to be as horrifying and disturbing as poor indentation or terminating prepositions. Not only that, but the rules evolve as everyone adapts to each other’s behaviour, just like any other game theory problem. But if you can master calculus, ancient Greek and C++, and can learn to fake total authority and assurance from a frantic half-hour’s googling and deck-shuffling, then a basic awareness of shoes, hair and accessories need not be beyond the scope of your intellect. It’s surprisingly simple to work out the difference between cotton and polyester, for example, and getting your hair cut is a lot less awkward when you know whether or not you want a parting.
Life’s not an optimisation problem – you just do the best you can with what you’ve got.
She’d mentioned to me before that she found their approach to life a little over-analytical – in fact, she’d once mentioned it for four hours straight without stopping to draw breath.
Romance Isn’t Dead
“Don’t be so hung up on university,” said Kim. “What’s so great about Oxford?” The fire roared into life from the draught caused by the collective intake of breath. “Come on,” Kim continued. “You earn good money, you’re good at your job. You don’t need a rich husband. It’s not the be-all and end-all.”
“It’s not the end-all, but it’s pretty much the be-all. I don’t want to be working sixty-hour weeks when I’ve got kids – I see what it does to people. And it’s not just the money. The men get even worse as you work your way down the university league tables, and they never appreciate how awful it is for me to have to descend to their level. You get the same ego, if not more, but they’re dumber, more ignorant, less sensitive.”
“Less sensitive?” said Kim. “I mean, no offence, guys, but…” she gestured at Dale, and also at the corner where Patrick and I were sitting, for some reason.
“Oh yes, there’s worse,” said Una, in the tone of one still haunted by the horrors of trench warfare. “You wouldn’t believe what’s out there. Some are even worse than –”
She stopped suddenly.
“Worse than Gavin, you mean,” said Christina.
“No, I didn’t mean –”
“No, you’re right. He hasn’t read a book since school, he handles his cutlery like a toddler, he thinks ‘infer’ means ‘imply’. But I’m kind of resigned to it now, after these last few years. I don’t want to be alone, and sometimes you have to satisfice.” I felt bad for Gavin. His grammar wasn’t up to much, but he had other qualities. He’d kept a spreadsheet with a detailed record of every woman he’d ever propositioned, with an impressive level of detail and analysis. Most people would have given up after that much rejection.
“Not at all,” said Sophie. “You need to build a career, and you’ve worked hard for it. Everything else can come later.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and rubbed her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her. Louise looked impassive, although she must have winced inwardly, as I did. I winced outwardly, too, for good measure.
Becoming Not Young
“You know,” Craig said, “this thing with Sarah’s eyesight – I’ve noticed a few minor infirmities like that creeping in over the last couple of years – things like getting stiff after exercise or feeling tired after a big meal. It’s not a nice feeling, is it, that we’re not as vigorous as we used to be?”
“I know what you mean,” I said. It felt comforting to find this point of solidarity with Craig – I’d never felt I had much in common with him before, except perhaps a tacit nervousness around Sarah. “I was just talking about it with Kim earlier, upstairs. Still, I think we’re through it now that we’re nearly thirty. We’ve reached a plateau.”
“Yeah, the aging process will tail off now. We probably won’t even notice it in our thirties and forties.” We paused for a moment as Craig’s neighbour regained control of the car – he’d nearly swerved off the road as we were talking.
“I mean, our hair can hardly fall out twice,” Craig went on.
“Well, I’ve still got my hair.”
“Oh, right,” said Craig, hastily, as if I was being touchy, although I wasn’t in the least offended by his inexplicable mistake. My hairline’s receded a little, but not so that it shows, and although Dale sometimes likes to joke about me having a bald patch, I haven’t seen any signs of one.