His plants. They wouldn’t have dared to even consider wilting during his nap… would they? Crowley glowers momentarily, before turning on his heel and heading in their direction. The plants tremble – although not as much as he would like – as he comes into view. Oh very funny, Aziraphale, he thinks, as he notices his most verdant Monstera is now resplendent with a tartan bowtie. Tucked within it is another note, leaving Crowley with a quandary – untie the bowties that, he noticed, were dotted throughout, and then read the note, or overlook the… tartanification of his foliage and continue the hunt?
Crowley tears open the note, turning his back on the abomination that is sartorial vegetation:
My dear Crowley,
Now you see how I have been occupying myself on my visits. I simply couldn’t leave these beautiful plants to wither in your absence! They do look quite well – some might even say ‘jaunty’ – if I do say so myself, and they’re certainly trembling a lot less than they used to.
You know, I have had rather a lot of time to think during lockdown, and I wonder if London isn’t just a little too hectic for us in our retirement? I can imagine you in a country house with a beautiful garden – I am quite certain it would even rival the Garden itself! Oh, just imagine what you could do with more space! Lots of room for some orange Begonias, blue Cornflowers, green Carnations, violet Hydrangeas, red Hibiscus, indigo Asters, and bright yellow Sunflowers… But I seem to be getting ahead of myself! Thinking of this reminds me of that colourful thing the Almighty sent down when She promised not to flood the world again… I forget what that was called…
Do hurry my dear, I am waiting for you!
P.S.- I think the nice lady at the British Telecom may have read my new telephone number incorrectly because it doesn’t seem to work…