Skip to main content

Just like Eddie...

Words from a Bird.  Day 82

The husband is on a diet.  He doesn't know, as I haven't told him, but rest assured, by the summer I would hope that the hair on his calves might have started growing again after being deprived of sunlight over the winter.

It was a trifle which triggered my decision....a family sized trifle for one. (this would be a single person with no children sort of family)  Need I say more?  Even the husband had the decency to admit that he didn't feel too brilliant after eating it in one sitting.  I suppose that it is slightly my fault that he ended up with a trifle in the first place.  You'll remember from yesterday that I had no pudding to offer after the roast dinner, so when son number 2's BFF offered to drive out and get him something, it was more than he could cope with. 

'Trifle....a family one.  And if they don't have a large one, don't worry, I'll have three small ones instead..'

They were gone ages.  I thought at one point that the husband might have given up and gone to bed.  His spoon (one of those large serving spoons which are generally found stuck in a bowl of sprouts at Christmas) had gone warm, he had been holding it that long.

So the family trifle arrived.  It took a lot less time to leave the building than it did to get here, and having finished it, the husband looked like Eddie Izzard after his twenty seven marathons.... slightly grey with a glistening sheen of sweat across his forehead.

So tonight I served spaghetti with spicy salmon for dinner.  I would normally use two bags of pasta for the three of us, but tonight only opened one.  My decision was based on the 'if it's not there, you can't eat it' theory.

Dinner was placed in front of the husband who immediately looked panicked.

'Have I missed our anniversary or something?'

'No, why do you ask?'

'Well, you don't normally do a starter, so I assumed we were celebrating something...'

Maybe twenty seven marathons would be easier...

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I can't stand the rain...

The bloody rain's back then...
I suppose that this is a blessing of some sorts as it means that my hosepipe will get a well earned weekend off, and the flowers won't be looking at me through the kitchen window, wondering whether there will be any chance of me getting off my derriere and giving them a drink sometime before the next millennium.  Talking of watering flowers, I haven't had any feedback from Mrs B next door as to the complete transformation of her front garden while she's been away.  I would imagine that after two glamorous weeks away, that she will have more than enough washing to do, and perhaps hasn't had the opportunity to do a full horticultural inspection as yet.
I finally got round to cleaning Charlie out yesterday afternoon. Armed with a bin liner and some sweet smelling multi surface cleaner, I gingerly opened the door.  Oh dear Lord....it is amazing just how much detritus eight adults can make over five and a half hours, and I soon realised that…

In da club...

Boy was I glad to see the end of this week.  What with the football, the weeping colleagues (just the male ones as the female variety were quite cock-a-hoop) and the incessant watering of myself as well as the allotment, my garden, and a neighbour's garden (a greenhouse, thirty tubs, four cacti, seven bowls of hedgehog water and a scoop of mealworms each day....in the hottest fortnight on record).  Throw into the mix some rather frustrating conversations with someone who shall go unnamed, I was very glad to leave Binland on Friday afternoon.
But there have been good things too.  And isn't that what life is about?  There's no point having good things if you don't have the bad to compare them to.
I spent a lovely two hours with the Mother on Thursday discussing plants, allotments and beetroot, and I'd like to think that the highlight of her afternoon was digging up a couple to take home for her dinner that night. Or maybe it was the contraband tomato I smuggled out …

I'm walking...

Having been knocked flattish by a sore throat and all of its accompanying delights, I was quite anxious as to whether I'd be able to rally for Schnauzerfest yesterday.  I'd pulled out all the stops with cakes and dog biscuits, and was desperate to do my favourite good cause justice.  

But oh happy day... I woke up yesterday feeling quite normal (stop laughing, you know what I mean) and I loaded the car and drove to Wittenham Clumps (yes, it's a real place!) Getting there early with Miss R and Mrs S we gave the dogs a quick walk before all the other walkers turned up.  The sky, which had been threatening an apocalypse, finally decided to show its good side, and the sun shone as we got ready for everyone else to turn up. 

Now I have been doing some serious whistle training with my two for the past month or so.  This basically means blowing a whistle and shaking a bag of cheese cubes, and I was optimistic about finally letting my two off so that they could run free with the res…