Category: My Lovely Man

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What’s that on your face?

I am at the age of greying hair. I am uncertain as to how grey I am, as I regularly colour my hair.

A number of friends have taken the bold step of allowing the grey, and they all look fantastic. I am not yet this courageous. It’s a bit of a process I believe. My hair grows like a weed and I have a lot of it, so I have to colour regularly. Box colour, full disclosure, I am not glam.

The problem with colour is it gets on your face. You have to be quite diligent about wiping it off carefully when you first apply the colour. Or it stains, of course, in places you don’t want to colour.

Today I failed.

It’s easier to get colour off your skin (it’s not built to colour your skin I guess), but I have a fluffy face. I am grateful, as I age, that unlike my lovely man, my ear and nose hair are not aggressively increasing (what’s with that anyway? Why?). But, my already fluffy face is coming out in force.

I’m like a little Alpaca. A chubby one.

Hair, is what hair colour is meant to colour as it turns out.

So, now I have red sideburns. Mutton chops really.

Best displayed in the sunshine.

The bathroom is sunny. My lovely man walked in and said ‘How’s your hair looking….. oh…. can you shave those?’

I’m quite certain that shaving my face will quickly become a slippery slope.

We have coffee in a bit with friends. In a garden setting. It’s a gorgeous sunny day.

My lovely man never has to worry about me betraying him, nobody else would want me.

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Problem, what problem?

Some years ago, a customer of mine put me on an AA WhatsApp group. And since then, I have been getting these daily messages of encouragement to stay sober.

I wasn’t quite sure what to read into this of course. I don’t believe I am a big drinker, but I guess that’s what they (we) all say.

I am Zimbabwean born, so the odds really are against me NOT being a big drinker.

I have an aversion to removing myself off WhatsApp groups I am put on. I feel so privileged to be put on the group. And, you know, you can see when someone leaves. And it’s SO rude. Also, he is a customer… So…. awkward. But I have lots of questions… Like why do you think I need this?

Our daily message (see that, I’m feeling one with this group), starts off with the Serenity Prayer. Then it launches into one of the steps, guidance on the challenges we have to conquer, all KINDS of inspirational stuff.

They are VERY long messages. While I am in awe of these daily compilations, I very rarely read it all. Especially if I have a hangover 🤣

I actually only started drinking any alcohol when I turned 40. Encouraged by my group of friends, the Ex Wives Club. A story for another day perhaps.

Wherever we go, my lovely man produces, from somewhere on his being, some strawberries for my wine. Isn’t he marvelous?

I suspect I am going to have to report this to the group. He’s the enabler.

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Can anyone hear me?

My lovely man, and his BFF, the intrepid Mandova. A source of great entertainment the both of them.

Both of them hard of hearing.

Makes it quite easy for me to keep track of what is going on in the household, because they are inevitably yelling updates at each other.

Quite often I will jabber on to them for a few minutes and then regard their blank faces and realize neither have or wish to hear me.

What is our list for today I hear them ask each other regularly. Also quite regularly I am called to survey something they have done together.

The current challenge is keeping the power going. We are blessed with a solar system, but the solar system needs to be topped up by the municipal electricity intermittently. The municipal electricity has been a bit scarce of late (someone must have stolen it).

I am particularly bleak when the geyser gets cold.

Today I was summoned to check on the state of the solar batteries. Low. We all regarded this solemnly.

No boiling of the kettle or running anything that consumes a lot of power. (Hope my wine stays cold).

I think, my lovely man suggested, if we don’t get electricity today or tonight, we must run the generator to boost the batteries.

What I suggest, Mandova stated (oblivious), is that if we don’t get electricity soon, we should run the generator.

What did he say, my lovely man asked me.

So, I said…. Tell you what, if it doesn’t come right, let’s use the generator.

Glad I thought of it.

So we are going to do that.

Love them both. Peas in a pod in their thinking. Deaf peas of course.

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It’s all falling apart really – My Lovely Man

Good health.  It seems to be the luck of the draw really.  Or can we all expect to fall apart when we get on a bit.

We are on the phone to the dentist again pleading for an appointment because my lovely man flicked off half a tooth with a toothpick. Again.

It’s not fair that he should have any tooth problems, because he’s always looked after his teeth, he tells me. Although when he went with his siblings to the dentist it was always him needing a filling or two and his siblings, he assures me, were not deserving of good teeth.

See, luck of the draw these things.

My lovely man is very uncomplaining about any ailments.  Stoic.  I am not at all stoic if anything goes wrong.  Winger I could be labelled.

It is just as well I am healthy because I am not brave.  I would rather be dead than ill.  If I ever get ill, I am likely to be shot in the eye in frustration by my loved ones. They will certainly advocate a mercy killing, and their justification would be that it would be a mercy on them to be rid of me.

But you read these days that children now can expect to live to exceed 100 years in age. 

We can presume though, that they will be completely re-built.  Replacement knees, spine, hips, teeth, organs.  Because really, that’s what happens already doesn’t it?  By the time you are in your 60’s, all kinds of things start giving you hell.

Almost eight billion of us already, and everyone looks to exceed 100 years in age in the very near future. 

It’s not for sissies.

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Keeping it Tidy – My Lovely Man

I have taken to giving my little pups their weekly bath with me in the shower.

This is easier than doing it over the bath.  Our wonderful house helper usually takes on the back breaking task of washing them with a hand shower in the bath, so she is very grateful at this new turn of events.

I have not yet suggested that perhaps she get in the shower with them, not sure her work contract stretches to that.

My lovely man takes on the drying role and the passing of a new pup for a lathering.

We should video this for your blog he suggested. 

You will be relieved to know that it was a hard no from me.  If he even appears in the bathroom with his phone, I’ll drown him.

On another note….

We have a lady come to the house both in Mozambique and Zimbabwe, to cut our hair.  (Not the same lady).

Very efficient really.

It was haircut day the other day, and we were both closely shorn.

Also, very efficient really.

I have been complimenting my lovely man on how handsome he looks.

He, in turn, has been calling me “mhanza”.  Which I was less than delighted to learn means baldy in Shona.

Compliments, who needs them hey?

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Let’s play Golf, it’ll be fun – My Lovely Man

My lovely man plays a bit of golf with friends quite regularly. 

I’m not yet convinced anyone ENJOYS golf. 

A friend advertised her husband’s clubs for a ridiculously low price after listening to one too many rants as to how he was sick of the game and was going to sell his clubs. He fielded offers for days.

Another friend glanced at her phone once and said ‘Oh no, it’s my husband, he’s been playing Golf, he’s going to go on again’

Then she listed to his whining and whispered soothingly ‘No darling, you are not completely useless…’

Anyway… before my lovely man headed off to his afternoon golf game he made me a little plate of cold meats and salad for lunch (coz he is lovely), and then he staggered off to play 18 holes, and I went back to my desk. 

After their analysis at the 19th hole… no doubt as to how useless everyone was and what do they even play this game for, he comes home.

Are you alright darling he asks, did you have any supper? You didn’t eat a big lunch.  (Love him).

I’m alright thanks darling I assure him, I’m fine, I’m not hungry. I’m having a quick shower. 

OK, he says, but the chips you never ate are falling out your bra again.

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Zambuk, it’ll last you forever – Daily Life, My Lovely Man

My lovely man has had a cold for over a month.  The poor bugger.  We have self-mediated, of course, but yesterday actually went to see a doctor and got him some anti-biotics.  This is his second dose of antibiotics, but the first lot didn’t do the trick it seems.  Possibly because it was just some stuff I had lying around to treat a cat bite.

Have I mentioned that you can pretty much buy any drug in Mozambique?  We are not as regulated.  No time for that shit, no money in it really. 

I had, being Flo Nightingale, been giving him some meds and arranging a steam bowl a couple of times a day.  And a little towel of course.

The doctor applauded my efforts and said that the steaming was good and needed to be continued.  He said that it’s the steam that does the good, not really what you put in the hot water.

I scoffed at this, I believe it’s the Vicks I put in the hot water.  The first time I gave it to my lovely man I had maybe put too much Vicks in the hot water and he nearly passed out.  Are you sure this is good for me he wept through streaming eyes.  Get under that towel already…. Course it’s good for you.

So, when we stopped at the chemist to get the antibiotics, I suggested he get more Vicks (yes, he went in on his own to get his meds, I had this blog to write).

The lady said that Zambuk to rub on my chest or steam with will also do the trick he announced on his return.  We have Zambuk don’t we?

Yes, of course we have Zambuk, we’ve had it for years.  Why for years, because you can’t get the lid off a Zambuk tin can you?  That stuff lasts forever.

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Life in Africa – yes, we have tape, it’s red

We had cause to transact with a government department.

Always a time to gird your loins, particularly in Africa.

The first government department we were channeled to were super pleasant but directed us to another department and building down the road. You need to go to the 13th floor they advised. Of course, it would be the 13th floor.  Didn’t think they even allowed 13th floors in buildings, isn’t it bad luck?  It certainly was for us.

What are the chances there is a working lift my lovely man asked as we navigated our way there.

There was a man here yesterday trying to fix the lifts, the ground floor reception fella told us. But, he continued, the problem seems more complicated than his ability.

My lovely man, at this point, could have sent me up into the ether by myself, as it was my issue, but, he is super supportive and courageously led the way. His two knee replacements no doubt saying ‘hang on a bit.. is this wise?’

As we braced ourselves at the bottom, our senses were assailed with a strong urine smell. So, shallow breaths for 13 floors was required.

I did sympathise as by now my bladder was prompting me for attention.  However, I managed to restrain myself from piddling on the staircase you will be proud to know.

My Samsung watch went into overdrive.  Alerting me to the fact that I was exerting myself. It has never been so excited quite frankly.

We staggered, gasping to the 13th floor reception and she immediately said we needed to see someone on the 12th floor. There was no oxygen available from what we could see.

These people, bless them, do this every day. A couple of times a day I imagine.

We met another unbelievably pleasant lady on the 12th floor, and she laughed at the condition of us. There was little sympathy, she is doing this climb daily 5 months pregnant.  The lifts have not worked for two months. Honestly, for me, that would have been contraceptive enough.

Thank you for coming she said, you are in the right place, but, in fact, you need to write us a letter with your request and bring it back for our consideration.

This is Africa, there is no point in asking – is this information readily available anywhere as to what the process is?

There is also no POSTING a letter.  One must deliver it personally.  Can one leave it at the ground floor reception we asked tentatively… better to bring it up to the 13th floor reception yourselves we were advised.

Of course. 

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My Lovely Man – bring on the bees already

Two days ago there was great excitement and my lovely man dragged me out to the bee hive where indeed, there were half a dozen bees buzzing around.

But they went away and so far, have not returned. Clearly not impressed with our hive.  I’m considering putting the price tag on it to assure them of it’s quality.

We need to figure out how to attract them my lovely man stated sadly.

My suggestions of moving the compost heap the hive is near, painting the hive orange (orange is ALWAYS good), maybe thinking about putting in a little jacuzzi, some art work and a comfy bean bag or two have been met with scorn.

This morning my lovely man had found an educational You Tube channel.

Darling he said, the sound is off, please help.

My lovely man is somewhat technically challenged.

I spent 10 minutes trying to unmute it. Checked all the settings, subscribed, generally faffed around.

Eventually I said… Is the volume down?

We probably don’t deserve bees, we are idiots.

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My Lovely Man – A Weekend with the Boy

Hot off the press.

I have received an email invitation to be part of a reality TV Show in Mozambique. On one of the islands. We will be one of two young couples apparently. Of course I received this in Portuguese, but it seems to translate into Weekend with the Boy.

Everything will be paid for they say, and there will be entertainment and games. We are only obliged to portray how young couples love each other in Mozambique.

Why are we invited my lovely man immediately queried. We are not young.

Also, he said, what if they require us to stay up after 8pm? I don’t think we can be entertaining after 8pm. Will they let us have our afternoon nap? And watch our soapies?

Well I said, people only have to pay 10 Mets to watch us they say, so I don’t think their expectations will be very high.

Will they want us to drink those fancy cocktails he fretted. We don’t like those. Check ahead how much beer they have.

It doesn’t look high budget I worried, might be more like Survivor. We are not into roughing it.

We’ve considered this long and hard over our morning tea and biscuit, and sadly, we are going to have to regret the invite.