“I hope you’re not taking the piss,” I say smartly, and he stops walking to grab my arm. “No, I’m not,” he says seriously. “It’s a lucky character trait to be pleased with the plain things in life. There aren’t enough people like you, and I like the way you make me feel it too. If I’d been with Fletcher and the others, we would have crammed into the ski lifts, with them talking incessantly all the time about rubbish. When we got to the top, we’d have come down, and we’d have repeated that until it was time for lunch at wherever the trendiest place is at the moment. No one would have pointed
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