I stare at it for a long time. Nobody rings me at this time of day, except the LTLP who is in America with fleas. Perhaps the person on the other end of the line will give me an excuse not to do something which I have been putting off and putting off and putting off. It is worth a shot.
“Hullo?” I ask the telephone.
“Hello!” replies Big A (on the telephone).
It is Big A, who is telephoning me out of idleness as he lives across the road.
“I was wondering if you fancied a game of snooker this morning?” he asks.
I pause, and examine my conscience. It takes me about three seconds, and I reel back in horror from what I discover. But I resolve to be firm, despite his siren telephonic entreaties.
“I’m sorry,” I say firmly. “But I’m going for a run.”
There is an odd noise at the other end. “Hello? Hello?” asks Big A. “There must have been some problem with the line. I thought you said you were going for a run.”
Yes, because sarcasm is, like, the highest form of wit, isn’t it? I crossly tell him to go away. I have no idea why my running plans have caused such scepticism amongst the general public. But I will not be diverted from the path of righteousness.