Violet and I are emailing. So far so normal.
E: Did I tell you that at the wedding Lashes gave me a caterpillar and a cricket in an empty water bottle to mind? I had to keep this filthy bottle of soil and insect on the table in front of me all evening. But then the caterpillar got squashed and he wailed for about an hour and I had to clean up caterpillar blood and the cricket escaped and had to be replaced with a moth. I spent hours trying to catch the fucker.
V: You didn't pee on it I hope.
E: No. This one was much smaller.
V: And what happened to it? Is it still alive? I do hope I will not have to report you to David (keen entomologist and amateur naturalist we were at school with) again.
E: Um. It was in the bottle all night and then I don't know what happened. Oh no! More moth crime! Please don't report me!
V: This does seem to be becoming a regular occurrence...
E: My name is Emma and I am a moth molester
V: Moth botherer
E: Moth fiddler
V: Moth murderer
E: David can hear this conversation you know. Using his bat detector.
V: And he's coming to get you. In his foot shaped sensible shoes.
E: I won't hear him coming, will I?
V: Those crepe soles are totally silent.
E: I do really hate moths though. Bastards.
V: Damien Hirst should coat them in something shiny.
E: Oh god. I have just got an email from the CFO. It reads "I have cheese". Nothing else.
V: Is that code? Like, French code for something sexual?
E: I don't think so. We are never having sex again, remember? I think it's French code for "I have cheese"
V: Well, if you will insist on living with a Frenchman....