Back for good....
You will remember from last week, my concern about the impending demise of my usefulness as a woman on this planet...ie, the start of the menopause. The husband, who is getting slightly fed up of sleeping next to a puddle most nights was overjoyed when I said that I was going to book an appointment with the doctor to look at available options.
Well yesterday was my appointment. The husband, doing his usual 'I need to get out of the door or I'll be late for work' flapping about, had obviously remembered this, and as he was rushing towards the front door, he shouted out,
'Don't forget to ask them about the CBT....'
Now if you are not a motorbike fan, this will mean nothing to you. CBT is the Compulsory Basic Training necessary to get through your first test for a bike. It doesn't involve sweating, oestrogen, mood swings or weight gain, but for some reason, it struck a chord with the husband, in his attempt at trying to impress me with the fact that he had sort of remembered where I was going.
'It's not CBT', I said wearily. 'That's the motorbike test'.
'Well, what it is then?' asks he. 'HS2?'
'No, that's the new train line'..
'ATM?'
'No. That's a cashpoint'. (This confused him even more as the letters didn't match. I'll probably have to go over this again with him tomorrow...
'H2O?'......
Silence from yours truly, a slight pursing of the mouth accompanying the narrowing of my eyes...
And then he got silly...'HRH? MFI? DFS? H&M? B&Q?'
Getting slightly miffed at his lack of understanding about all this, I eventually managed to forcibly close the front door behind him while he was still spouting nonsense.
So my appointment later that morning went well. The doctor was lovely, and very patient, and didn't take the mickey once. Apparently, Red Clover is the way forward if you don't fancy growing a beard at the age of 53. I've stocked up, and will give it my best shot, as a job in the circus is not for me just yet.
By the way, so that the husband and I are on a level footing with regard to the difficult times ahead, I have booked him in for a BS&C.
That'll wipe the smile of his face....for some time I would imagine...
Well yesterday was my appointment. The husband, doing his usual 'I need to get out of the door or I'll be late for work' flapping about, had obviously remembered this, and as he was rushing towards the front door, he shouted out,
'Don't forget to ask them about the CBT....'
Now if you are not a motorbike fan, this will mean nothing to you. CBT is the Compulsory Basic Training necessary to get through your first test for a bike. It doesn't involve sweating, oestrogen, mood swings or weight gain, but for some reason, it struck a chord with the husband, in his attempt at trying to impress me with the fact that he had sort of remembered where I was going.
'It's not CBT', I said wearily. 'That's the motorbike test'.
'Well, what it is then?' asks he. 'HS2?'
'No, that's the new train line'..
'ATM?'
'No. That's a cashpoint'. (This confused him even more as the letters didn't match. I'll probably have to go over this again with him tomorrow...
'H2O?'......
Silence from yours truly, a slight pursing of the mouth accompanying the narrowing of my eyes...
And then he got silly...'HRH? MFI? DFS? H&M? B&Q?'
Getting slightly miffed at his lack of understanding about all this, I eventually managed to forcibly close the front door behind him while he was still spouting nonsense.
So my appointment later that morning went well. The doctor was lovely, and very patient, and didn't take the mickey once. Apparently, Red Clover is the way forward if you don't fancy growing a beard at the age of 53. I've stocked up, and will give it my best shot, as a job in the circus is not for me just yet.
By the way, so that the husband and I are on a level footing with regard to the difficult times ahead, I have booked him in for a BS&C.
That'll wipe the smile of his face....for some time I would imagine...
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