"Cooky Dean, where the Hell is that?" spluttered Simon through his double espresso.
"It's in the countryside, since you ask. Forty minutes from the West End when the traffic is good and close enough to nip back and have my hair cut," I replied.
"God, is it on the tube?"
"No, but it has a Starbucks and M&S Food two miles away. And it has a pub where everyone knows each other. And a furniture shop."
"TWO MILES? You must be mad."
"Wait til you see it. There is a horse in a field at the bottom of my garden and my cottage has roses around the door and is on a dirt track, not a road."
"I really don't know about this, Theo. I mean, I thought you liked concrete? And what will you do when you can't hail a cab home at 2am? That's if there is anywhere to go until 2am out there."
"There must be. Ulrika lives there. So does Lorraine Kelly, Chris Rea and Timmy Mallett."
"Are they still alive?"
"Do you have to be so rude? Anyway, my offer has been accepted and I want you to help me move my stuff if you will, please. My contract on the flat runs out in September so I'm hoping it all goes through by then. Are you around?"
"I can be. Guess I'd better hang around until you want to move back again. Two weeks later."
"We'll see."
"We will indeed."
