Cherry...

I took the husband to see Dunkirk on Wednesday night.  I have been waiting a solid week before finally getting round to see this, and to be honest, to say that I was excited is like saying that Lee Evans feels the warmth a little.

The husband was thrilled, as it meant that yet again, he could indulge his desire for a rum and raisin milkshake.  We parked the car and walked into the cinema.  Now I'm more than happy to walk through the main cinema doors, but the husband always has to go through the small side door which leads straight into the ice cream parlour.  It's almost like he can't cope with the extra ten metres and twelve seconds which he would lose by taking the longer route.

Anyway, through the side door he trotted, dragging yours truly behind him.  'Off you go to the loo then', he said gesturing to the Ladies in the foyer.

'Not sure I need to go', I said.

'Yes you do.  You had a cup of tea at 7.00, so if you don't go now, you'll need to go in the film, and that will hack everyone off'.

Mulling it over, I decided he had a point, and I dutifully headed off to the loo leaving him at the counter, hopping from foot to foot and playing with the loose change in his pocket. Just as I turned the corner, he shouted out to me, 'What do you want?  The usual?'  

'Surprise me...' I said.

Well surprise me he did.  Waiting at the table was a glass the size of a small vase, filled with chocolate brownies, mint choc chip ice cream, squirty cream and perched on top was a rather large maraschino cherry. I have to confess that I sat there and ate the whole lot while he drank his milkshake, a dazed look in his eyes.  

'Oh God that was lovely', he sighed.  'I'm going to have to buy another one.  Do you want another sundae?'  As I scooped up the last mouthfuls of brownie, I raised an eyebrow.

'In approximately four weeks and three days, I have to wear a bikini in public.  What do you think?'

Luckily for Old Tubby, he doesn't have to wear a bikini, and will be able to tuck any extra milkshake induced stomach into his large swim shorts.  Such is the joy of being a menopausal woman.

Changing the subject slightly, I was telling Master P, the young boy I share an office with, that I went to see Dunkirk.

'What's that about then?'  he asked

'Dunkirk'.  I said, stating the bloody obvious.

'Yes', he insisted, 'but what's the film about?'

I was tempted to say that it was the new Star Trek film in which Captain Kirk gets killed, but to be honest, what those men and women did for us doesn't warrant flippancy on any level.  So he had a quick history lesson from yours truly.

I'm sure his life will be the richer for it...