Amelia

What happened?

Me

He used my testicles as a trampoline when jumping onto my lap. The doctor has diagnosed testicular trauma.

I won't tell her that we were playing with one of his mouse toy thingies when things got out of hand. The cat has turned me into a right sap.

Amelia

Oh, he likes you if he jumps on your lap.

Me

Did you not hear me?? Testicular. Trauma.

There’s a no reply. I grin because it's not really that bad. The doctor confirmed that it’s just a mild case and the pain should subside fairly quickly, but Amelia doesn’t know that and I think I deserve some pity.

Amelia

Okay, I googled it. So basically you have a bruised bollock.

Me

That's right.

Amelia

Did they have to untwist it?

Me

No.

Amelia

Was it dislocated?

Me

No.

Amelia

Did they have to remove it?

Me

No

That little minx is taking the mickey!

Amelia

Ben, did they give you an ice pack and tell you to rest for a few days?

Me

Yes!

Amelia

Fucking hell. I would say grow a pair but apparently you have a pair, just some very weak ones.

The cheek.

Me

I’ll have you know they’re not weak.

I can't believe I am defending my bollocks.

Amelia

I’m not sure how to reply to that.

Me

Well, for one you can say you'll pick up your cat.

I frown. I don't really mean it. I’ve actually got used to having the furball around. It's been a week since she has dropped him off with me―the plumber is taking his good old fucking time―and we’ve somehow got into a routine. Oh fuck, total sap.

Amelia

I can't! The plumber is still waiting for parts and probably won't be able to repair the boiler before next week.

Sorry.

Me

It's freezing.

Amelia

Oookay?!

I could kick myself for not thinking about that before. We've had a cold spell kick in two days ago, bringing arctic winds. She must be freezing in her house with no heating or hot water. She made sure her bloody cat had a safe and warm space to sleep whilst she stayed in her ice-cold cottage.