Very early on, before we lived together, she was in my room. I went downstairs to get a drink, and when I came back up she’d vanished. I knew she wasn’t downstairs because there was no way to sneak past me down there. She wasn’t behind the door or under the bed when I checked. I opened my wardrobe and she was sitting in the bottom, wearing an old penguin hat I had and grinning. She thought it would make me laugh, which it did. She was one of the most fun and lively and playful people I could think of.
One time we were in my room, she suddenly grabs the blanket on the bed and rolls up in it, so it’s kind of wrapped around her like a tube. I asked her what she was doing and she explained that she’d decided to be a sausage roll and she was the meat. It was so utterly bizarre and ridiculous, it cracked me up, like she knew it would.
