Tag: Daily Life

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There’s a cloth for that

My lovely man has pain in his hands the poor soul.

A friend of his gifted him with this magical little cloth to help him open things.

Life changing! He is opening things left and right. Most especially, my wine.

A friend of MINE gifted me with some crocheted kitchen cloths. What a win they are too! He is opening things, and I am wiping them down.

So…. as it’s the season to be jolly and just in case you want to get us a wee pressie, any sort of cloth is met with much delight.

Or a wind chime. One cannot have too many really. Same for candles.

Or wine.

Or beer.

Just saying…

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It’s not hot is it?

My lovely man loves a curry. Well, this is not strictly true, because he doesn’t really like hot or spicy food.

He loves a stew really.

Anyway, there is seldom a stew on a restaurant menu (why is that?), so his default is the curry.

Also not true, his default is an omlette. He quite often asks at a fancy lunch restaurant if they have an omlette.

But generally… The curry is ordered, with the ‘it’s not too hot or spicy is it?’

The restaurant people are always puzzled by this of course.

Order something else you can see on their faces.

Without fail he is told… No, no. It’s fine. Not too hot.

Also… Without fail he will say to me ‘it’s very nice, but a bit too hot for me’.

And then, the next time .. He will order the curry.

Consistent. I like consistent. Love him.

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That might kill you

We have a recurring weed patch that pushes it’s way through part of the paving. Just a small section of the paving. When I pondered aloud as to why the weeds were coming up only in that section, my lovely man said that it was probably over the sewage section.

I’m sorry I asked.

So, we have to dig these wees out intermittently. We were told that a concoction of hot water and salt might be easier.

I suffered some conflict in this regard, which was scoffed at by my lovely man. But, it just doesn’t feel right to pour boiling water over any living thing does it?

Anyway, he asked if we had salt he could use to put in a jug of boiling water and I said that he could use some of the dishwasher salt.

The weed patch looks very sad now.

Then he advised me that he had used some of the same (dishwasher salt), to top up the salt grinders.

I don’t think…. I started….

Salt is salt he said firmly. In the VOICE OF AUTHORITY.

Well, Google says it’s not. Dishwasher salt is not to edible standards.

Proceed with caution if we invite you for a meal.

We recently had a visitor who developed a stomach bug. Not sure there is a connection.

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It’s not permanent is it?

Some years ago, I decided to have eyeliner tattooed. Yes, on my eyes. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

It was the worst sensation ever. I was trying to slide down the bed to get away from the lady administering this torture. She was hauling me back up by my ears.

She told me that I had to come back for round two a few days later. She sent reminders. I think I blocked and reported her.

On the way home I phoned a friend crying. Come here immediately she instructed, I have wine.

Despite this, I recently decided my eyebrows needed attention. Because, sadly, they are fading. Disappearing really. And they weren’t ever very evident to start with.

Yes… The lady said, I can see why you are concerned, I think we are going to do a Blade and Shade procedure here.

Will it hurt was my only query.

Apparently not. Lying bitch.

You have very strong skin she repeatedly told me. VERY strong. Have you ever been told that?

What, that I’m thick skinned? No…

What skin products do you use she asked, do they have retinol? I don’t know I replied, I’ll have to enquire with Take a Lot.

She looked mildly alarmed and I could see wanted to launch into how I really should take better care considering my advanced years.

She refrained. Retinol, she said, is very good for the skin, but fades the eyebrows. Who knew?

So much to fret about.

Oh dear, she said, I’ve dropped some of the ink on your cheek. It wouldn’t stain normally, but you have an extraordinary amount of fuzz on your face, I’m just going to shave this bit.

Here is your care kit she said. Try and not get your new eyebrows wet.

What, forever? They are on my face.

Just warn your partner she said, tomorrow they will be very dark, and then they will fade a bit. Oh yes, they may scab. Let me know in a month if you need a touch up (not likely to hear from me again).

Sure enough, when I bought my lovely man his morning cuppa, he definitely recoiled.

Don’t expect to see me around too much.

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Time saver tips

I met with a friend a little while ago. Luckily she’s not on social media, doesn’t know about my posts and general indiscretion.

She’s a very busy girl. Show me an unbusy person these days… It’s all relative isn’t it? Life is hectic.

Anyway..

She was relaying a story about a guy she went out with when she was much younger. A very nice bloke she was at pains to tell me. Until…. She woke up in the middle of the night and he was fiddling with her and trying to have his way… I know, horrifying.. This, apparently, was his preferred sexual encounter.

Surprisingly, the relationship didn’t last. ‘Is it because…’ he asked when she ended it. ‘No, no’, she said (what do you think buddy?)

I look back on it now, she continued.. And it seems very efficient. I mean, I might have to drug myself so that it wouldn’t disturb my sleep, but I would be able to tick my to do list before my first cup of coffee.

Look him up, I suggested helpfully, he would probably sponsor the drugs.

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What’s going on with my face?

I’m at an age where wrinkles are happening. Happened really. Gravity is not a friend.

However, my face is not wrinkling in a normal manner I have observed.

I do not have crows feet to indicate a joyous life full of laughter. Which is sad really.

My wrinkles are appearing above my eyebrows. Oh, she means her forehead I hear you think. No… Not really. Deep grooves above the ear side of my eyebrows. As opposed to the nose side of my eyebrows.

Are you with me?

Probably not… Because this seems to be an original thing. I know… Because everyone I meet I peer at to establish if they have these annoying lines.

I am alone.

I can only conclude that I have spent my life to date astounded.

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Are you feeling the love yet?

We went to South Africa for a bit.

Sorting out something my lovely man required.

While there, we had some laundry done.

I swear they’ve knicked my knickers I commented to my lovely man as I was packing.

(I know what you are thinking, what sort of uncouth person gives their smalls to a stranger to wash? Well, obs I won’t again, the frigging pervs).

Surely not my lovely man replied immediately, can you imagine how big that girl must have been?

What the actual….?

No, no her recovered, I meant the other way around.

Anyway, I’m circulating a petition promoting euthanasia, will you sign?

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Oh, you don’t want to do that..

I recently had to fly somewhere. 

For some reason, they upgraded me to business class. They have done this a few times.  I am unworthy, but grateful. Hey ho. 

Of course, I feel like a bit of an imposter… Because, you know… I ain’t paying those prices and presumably everyone else has. 

My temptation is to ask everyone around me if they’ve also been upgraded. But… I resist this. 

I accepted my moist, warm towel like a pro. 

So, I try and fit in by being an arsehole. For instance, I insist that they close the curtain between us and the poor people. I also complain about the superior food and real cutlery and demand a brand of whisky that no-one has heard of. I don’t drink whisky.

You know… Showing my class. 

They now ask everyone to put their gadgets on aeroplane mode. They’ve given up asking everyone to switch everything off, have you noticed?  We watch a lot of aircraft disaster investigations and I’ve never seen the report indicating that the plane went down because someone left their Bluetooth earbuds on.  Still…. I glowered at the fellow who put his fancy Bose headphones on.  I took a picture of him in case we went down and then they would know why.

Then the air steward fellow told some lady that her bag was too big to be stowed at her feet. He took five minutes to wrestle it out. We were all astounded that she managed to get it into that space in the first place. And where had she put her feet even? When he man-handled it to a storage place the plane tipped with the weight. I swear it was one of those bales of clothing the generous European people send to Africa to clothe us. Bless them. 

Clearly a lucrative business because she was in business class. 

Then… I didn’t know what to do with my toothpick. It’s an awkward thing to give someone to dispose of, isn’t it? Can’t just hand it to anyone… Even if you are business class.

So… And I warn you to stop reading now… 

The lovely fellow (paying) in the seat next to me had had a juice. So.. I leaned over a wee bit and shoved my toothpick down the little straw. He was dozing. 

I thought he had finished it; it was in the seat pocket! 

To my horrow he removed it to have a last suck of remaining juice. 

That’s gonna hurt I thought.. 

I stopped him. 

I don’t think they’ll upgrade me again. This guy has put in a word. 

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Living his best life

My lovely man and I travel what is known as the Beira Corridor quite regularly.

Beira port functions well, so road transport is alive and well in our neck of the woods.

For a variety of reasons I won’t bore you with, I am the designated driver. I get no thanks for this act of service. I do get an ongoing stream of input. Mostly ignored. Except if we are in imminent danger. I then react… But grudgingly.

Another thing that happens quite grudgingly is the acknowledgement that there are a bucket load of trucks on the roads. Road improvement, road widening and managing this volume at the borders is not an obvious priority.

If you ever feel a bit mizzy about your job, thank your lucky stars you are not a truck driver on the Beira Corridor. Patience in abundance seems required.

So, on a recent road trip, we found ourselves in a grid lock of enormous trucks, trailers and other cars. Patience…. was not in evidence.

After a time when it became apparent nothing was going to move, my lovely man bounced out of the car ‘to see what the hell is happening’.

A further significant period of time passed and it dawned on me he may be lost for ever.

I immediately panicked. But then…. I realized he hadn’t taken the biscuits.

Another epoch passed as I munched happily on the biscuits and beamed up at all truck drivers around me.

I pondered if I should consider rationing the biscuits.

And then! Miraculously, we started to move. I wondered vaguely where my lovely man was in this chaos of trucks, trailers and cars and looked fondly at his phone that was in the car, with me. I hoped that we would find each other somehow, or that he would at least find his way home one day.

But! It was him! My lovely man. Kicking arse and taking names. Full traffic cop mode. Instructing people left and right to stop being knobs and move this way and that way. Saving the day. His only regret was not having a reflective jacket. And maybe a little cap. And a gun. Or at least a baton.

Everybody loving him and grateful.

And in no time we were on our way. What a guy.

What happened to the biscuits he asked me.

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Happy birthday girls

My mother would have been 81 today. We lost her when she was 46. So, today, as I do most days, I mourn the loss of my extraordinary mother.

Today is also the birthday of one of my little fur babies. Bella pup. She is 9. Actually, I am not sure her exact age or birthday, as I had to estimate it. But, I chose it to fall on my mum’s birthday.

My lovely man is very kind to all the little animals I impose on him. It’s difficult to say if he has a favourite, but he certainly has a soft spot for dear little Bella.

Bella has selected to sleep at the top of the bed, between our pillows. Her little head on my lovely man’s pillow. I get the arse end, I’m not sure if you picked that up. She gets a little kiss on the head from him good night. I refrain from kissing the bit next to my face.

The other day she had a dodgy tummy and we listened to it rumbling something terrible. It was still rumbling like crazy when we retired to bed and she settled into her spot.

As I went off to shower, we glanced at each other and the unspoken thought was ‘is she gonna shit the bed?’

I climbed into bed, my lovely man tenderly stroking her little face and he announced…. ‘you might want to sleep facing the other way, she’s farting like a dragon’.

No thought of removing her from the vicinity. Isn’t he the loveliest?

Happy birthday mum and Bella. We count our blessings for our lovely fella.