Bank holiday, so everything is shut so no bottle of red tonight. I given up buying the gallon plastic bottles from the supermarket, the main reason being, I tend to drink it. Not up there in the problem stakes but a single bottle you can count, after journeying to the big bugger in the corner a number of times in an evening, you can't count at all. Mind you SWMBO has lately been having the odd glass (plastic) or three which leaves me with less than half a bottle, maybe the half gallon units may be all right?
The ladders turned up today, in the form of Tony “The Doctor”, who brought them down to me on the chance of a free cup of coffee and a fag. So I had no choice but to clean the bloody windows and get the flies off front of the MS as I had been promising SWMBO for the last two weeks, cross him off my Christmas card list, that's for sure. Most men know the rules, stick together and don't let the womenfolk grind you down, but he sells out cheaply for a coffee and a fag, makes me weep, it really does.
I know he had a set of ladders and I know I had been banging on about doing certain onerous jobs that I will have to do again anyway. The thing is it's reverse physiology, of course I didn’t really want them but I had to pretend. How could he not see that? There are unwritten rules among men, things that innately just exist and are just what men do, what they share. Like:-
USING POWER TOOLS - slightly more powerful than you need or can safely handle. Pneumatic drilling while smoking a fag? Superb.
NOT WATCHING YOUR WEIGHT - fat is a feminist issue, apparently. Brilliant. Pass the pork scratchings.
TEST SWINGING HAMMERS - ideally, B&Q would have little changing rooms with mirrors so you could see how rugged you look with any DIY item. Until then, we'll make do with the aisles.
PHONE CALLS THAT LAST LESS THAN A MINUTE - unlike birds, we get straight to the point. "alright? Yep. Drink? Red lion? George, it is then. Seven. Seeya."
PARALLEL PARKING - bosh, straight in. first time. Can Schumacher do that? No, because his cars got no reverse gear which, technically, makes you the worlds best driver.
LENDING TOOLS - And never, on no account, ever! Lend a mate anything to enable him to start, or finish, a job that his wife wants him to do, especially if it has anything to do with cleaning things. 'nuff said, what goes on tour stays on tour.
Problem is, and it's a well known fact, that Tony does all the washing and ironing as it is, next thing I know he'll be discussing with me that his period is late; poor bastid has been brain washed from a kid, probably brought up in a convent, never mind.
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| What's in your eye? Could it be sand? |
Washing / emptying the waste hog and re-bleaching the plastic cups for the first part of the day and in the afternoon went for a walk along Zahora beach, it was empty and beautiful. Bugger lugs, AKA SWMBO, started collecting sea shells again, by the bag full, again, God knows what she will do with them. Plan is, she told me, is to put them into little jars and give them as gifts to the rest of the family. Right, I can see that going down a storm. I can imagine the conversation with my brother Alan, “Hey Al, thanks for those tickets to the Christmas Gala at the Albert Hall, here's a jar of sea shells”. I think we should put that idea on the back burner for now.
God, it's cold. It's weird but the thermometer says it's 19°C in the Mothership but we feel cold and I've even agreed with her to put the 2KW electric fire on, what's that all about, are we turning into poncey southerners?
Good news is the Spanish are gone early and I beat SWMBO at cribbage the other night and I mean badly, right into SS (explain later).
Evening started badly at the thought of no wine to drink because a certain chap had told us that although it was bank holiday and all the big supermarkets would be closed, but the little one next to reception would be open as usual, not! So it was fish, perce, along with special rice and vegetables and NO white wine, beer instead. Beat her at dominoes, close thing though 3-2, and into another few episodes of “House”, put the “penguin” in her side of the bed, me now reading, her snoring, it's 11:55pm.
Tuesday 2nd November 2010.
Bloody hell it's cold and put the fire on to stand any chance of drawing the lovely SWMBO out of her pit. Normally when SWMBO gets up and it's anytime before 9am she will slide out, wrap “the throw” around herself, (what the hell is a bloody “throw”? My Mum never had one, so it must be unnecessary) Use the little room, wander up to the clock on the wall, spend about a minute figuring out what it says and if it's anytime before 9 o'clock, teleport herself instantly back into bed while it's still warm. I'm not kidding, the “throw” will still be hanging in the air like that scene when Obi-Wan Kenobi, AKA Alec Guinness, dies and all that is left for a split second, is his smock and no one in it. Just like that.
So today it will be a visit to Mercadona with a fairly long list, which will, of course, include some wine.
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