Patxi

Yesterday.

I have a phone appointment with an agent for 5 pm. Hate the phone, so go to Café Toronto at 3 to calm my nerves. At 4.30 a busker with guitar comes and starts to sing. She sings 'All you need is love', 'Dixie Chick', other songs; it's getting dangerously close to 5, but she is so witty I can't tear myself away. Two woman holding babies are dancing.

At 4.53 I dash inside, pay, dash outside, drop 10 euros in the hat, say she is brilliant and ask her name while apologizing for having to dash. She is Basque; her name is Patxi; she gives me her card. I dash.

As I charge up the stairs to my apartment my Handy rings. I try to answer the call but fail. I go into the apartment. The Handy rings again. I succeed in taking the call; I talk, or rather babble, for a long time.

Hours later I remember that I had promised to call my mother.