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Bree T-Shirt and the English Diary

Can I meet you on Sunday?

“My vixen will come to take it” said the fox. “Why can’t you come?” asked the she-goat doctress, lifting eyebrows under the glasses, inquisitive. “I am working. Can I meet you on Sunday?” the fox asked, leaning forward, trying to look preoccupied and interested. Maybe he was worried about his state of health or it might be that he was interested in the answer the doctress would give. If I were the vixen, I would analyse the meaning of the question thoroughly. At first glance, the question seems to be an invitation for a Sunday rendezvous. In this case, the she-goat could feel offended or flattered. From a different perspective, the fox, a gentleman, might think the she-goat doctress felt rejected and tried to comfort her, imagining that the she-goat regretted he won’t come, sending the vixen in his place, which in his interpretation, should feel honoured by the role she is entrusted with, not jealous. And the vixen …

 

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