Friday, 31 March 2017

Hate and love...

The husband and I didn't make Swing Club on Wednesday night.  This is down to the fact that after six hours of pressure washing the patio, I was barely able to walk in a straight line, let alone be able to deal with a Shortie George or a Tacky Annie.  In case you're new to me, it's a dance club I go to, and Shortie George and Tacky Annie are a couple of dance moves, rather than a pair of unsavoury characters you might meet in a bus shelter on a Friday night in Preston.

So now that's cleared up, I was disappointed in myself and my legs for letting the side down.  Instead of tripping (up) the light fantastic, I headed off to bed at 8.00 and slept for what felt like days. This always triggers the most stupid question from the husband. 'Did you sleep well?'  Well, my love, I have no idea as I was asleep at the time.  I don't normally respond with such a flippant retort out loud as the husband can be sensitive at times, and I hate the sight of that trembling lower lip he is so fond of.

So wasn't yesterday lovely?  I took the bull by the proverbials and left my vest off for the first time this year in anticipation of a warmer than average March day.  I even sat outside on my garden bench with my cup of tea.  Unfortunately, I also nodded off, spilling the now lukewarm tea down my jeans.  Mind you, the slightly rosy cheeks were worth it...

You'll remember my ramblings about supermarkets last week?  Well, I have been very organised this week, and yesterday afternoon, the Tesco lorry reversed into the drive (over the mud where the hedge used to be which won't please the husband).  Greeting the driver (who has been here before) at the door, he glowered at me.  'I hate coming here', he said. 'Oh', I said, 'I didn't think that getting here would be that bad'.   'Oh no', he replied, 'It's just that you have the same name as my ex wife, and I hate her.  It brings it all back every time I come to you'.

Looking at this miserable little soul as he wheezed and moaned to and from the van, I did have more than a little sympathy for my namesake, who is probably extremely content in her new life away from Laughing Boy.  I'd like to think that perhaps in time he might be able to move on and be happy.

But only if I stop ordering my shopping for delivery on a Thursday afternoon I think...


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