Few things bring me greater joy than someone taking two weeks to reply to a WhatsApp message. I mean it. This week, my friend and former teacher replied to a message I sent asking after his knee, with a very friendly and funny message. It had taken him a mere 24 days to respond. Glorious.
Not only does that kind of slack immediately take any pressure off me to reply there and then, while trying to simultaneously slice a potato, open a box of magnets for my son, load the washing machine and turn down the radio; but it proves the two of us have enough mutual affection and respect that, at some point, we can just pick up where we left off. Have I replied to him yet? Of course not. I’ve had cables to untangle and rice to boil. But I will.
