He's my new guilty Strictly Crush
V v good!
" I wish you were more like my mother"
I heard these words this morning just after breakfast.
Now, during yesterday's supermarket run, I had purchased a load of stockcubes for the store cupboard.
With his Roger Moore eyebrow at full tilt, The Prof asked in a somewhat exasperated tone if I " could keep the cubes all together in an ordered pile" .
It's been doing his head in that I tend to scatter things of similar brands throughout the house.
I became somewhat haughty and promptly told him that I have my own very individualised system when it came to cupboard filling ( ie no system at all!) and we left the conversation very much there.
Yesterday morning, in a fit of excitement and obvious giddiness, I cleaned out the cutlery drawer and obviously the Prof noticed there were no longer scummy marks all over the place.....so he let out the involuntary
" I wish you were more like my mother" when he was reminded that my neat and cleaning brainstorm hadn't found it's way to our somewhat haphazard collection of spice jars.
Sorrel has a beautifully neat kitchen. It's small, so structure has to be the order of the day.
Everything has a place and that place is clean and tidy and wonderful.
It's the first time I have been compared to my mother in law!
Now my lady readers who have a female in law, may like to chip in here....for I think I am right in saying that having your husband comparing you to his mother in a less than favourable light is definitely a marriage " No no"
Indeed , I once heard my father comment to my mother that his mother made better stew than she did and we all had to live with her thin lips for at least two full days.
Divorces have been initiated on less, but as the husband in a gay marriage it has never happened to me.
Does a gay husband get compared to the other's mother like wives do in straight marriages?
It's a knotty sociological problem.
Anyhow was I bothered ? Pah naw........The Prof is right...the cupboards are a bloody mess.....a bit of order amid the chaos of empty paprika jars and out of day mixed herbs would be a blessing.
So as he has gone off to Manchester for shopping with a friend and a curry with his PhD students, I thought about organising the cupboards......and have them all neat and clean and sweetly regimented
Then I thought .........fuck it.....I'm off to the cinema
Hey ho
Now, during yesterday's supermarket run, I had purchased a load of stockcubes for the store cupboard.
With his Roger Moore eyebrow at full tilt, The Prof asked in a somewhat exasperated tone if I " could keep the cubes all together in an ordered pile" .
It's been doing his head in that I tend to scatter things of similar brands throughout the house.
I became somewhat haughty and promptly told him that I have my own very individualised system when it came to cupboard filling ( ie no system at all!) and we left the conversation very much there.
Yesterday morning, in a fit of excitement and obvious giddiness, I cleaned out the cutlery drawer and obviously the Prof noticed there were no longer scummy marks all over the place.....so he let out the involuntary
" I wish you were more like my mother" when he was reminded that my neat and cleaning brainstorm hadn't found it's way to our somewhat haphazard collection of spice jars.
Sorrel has a beautifully neat kitchen. It's small, so structure has to be the order of the day.
Everything has a place and that place is clean and tidy and wonderful.
It's the first time I have been compared to my mother in law!
Now my lady readers who have a female in law, may like to chip in here....for I think I am right in saying that having your husband comparing you to his mother in a less than favourable light is definitely a marriage " No no"
Indeed , I once heard my father comment to my mother that his mother made better stew than she did and we all had to live with her thin lips for at least two full days.
Divorces have been initiated on less, but as the husband in a gay marriage it has never happened to me.
Does a gay husband get compared to the other's mother like wives do in straight marriages?
It's a knotty sociological problem.
Anyhow was I bothered ? Pah naw........The Prof is right...the cupboards are a bloody mess.....a bit of order amid the chaos of empty paprika jars and out of day mixed herbs would be a blessing.
So as he has gone off to Manchester for shopping with a friend and a curry with his PhD students, I thought about organising the cupboards......and have them all neat and clean and sweetly regimented
Then I thought .........fuck it.....I'm off to the cinema
Hey ho
Tomato Football
Well apologies for the depressive nature of the last post
I shall leave you on a brighter note.
I was just watching tv ( The Kenneth Williams' Interviews)
when a commotion in the kitchen got my attention
Albert, Winnie and George were running around playing with
a dropped cherry tomato donated by Pat the animal helper.
against all odds after 20 minutes George won
He brought it back to me and dropped it on the rug with an exhausted smile
The Note
In the right top corner of the little arts and crafts writing bureau in the living room, is a folded up envelope.
In the envelope is a hand written note and a house key.
The note is set of instructions with the title
" what to do in the event of my death"
It's not an exhaustive list.
There's contact numbers for a solicitor and a far flung, seldom seen relative.
There are some house keeping instructions, requests for " last time" jobs to completed and some final wishes of things that need to be set into order.
We have been asked to complete the job of a " next of kin" for someone who lives nearby and who lives alone.
It's not a big ask....but it is a vital one
The Prof and I have talked about who we would rely on when things slow down for us in future years. We have organised our wills, that bit is easy, but who will we rely on , when things go tits up?
Who will know the location of the family papers? And more importantly who will care about them?
My grandmother's wedding ring is hidden within our marriage certificate? Contacts for much loved peers lie hidden within locked up emails and phones and hopefully there will still be a pile of dogs on the hearth rug that will need a friend to care for them.
One day one or both of us will need to complete our own hand written note.
I just hope to God that we will find some serious minded old soul that will keep it safe and sound for us
Hey ho
Autumn
You can tell it's suddenly gone all autumn
For I've picked the last of the flowers from the garden
There was just enough to half fill the smallest of glass jugs.
Not much to report today, except that when I was making a fish pie at the same time as feeding the dogs, I got the spoons mixed up
and coped a load of dog food down the old gullet.
I wonder if I have to add it to my fat club sins?
The Best Woman - Bake Off's Nadiya !
Charming, naturally funny, Nadiya have proved herself a worthy champion over
the delightfully sweet Tamal and the now quietly humble Ian
The champion, the show, the judges and the format
Is truly the Best Of British
Nadiya Cried, Ian cried, Tamal Cried, Mary even cried
I cried friggin buckets too
Wonderful tv
Make Your Own Kind Of Music
A woman with probable mental health issues was singing this song
Outside Home Bargains in Prestatyn this afternoon.
She was wearing a green kagool.
It rather moved me
Bake Off Final Later!
Nipple Talk
The Prof was poorly yesterday with a nasty tooth abscess.
It must have been very painful and he looked dreadful when he got home but after a bit of ' hands on' care he managed to weakly consume half a turkey lasagna, a tub of Marks and Spencer custard and a small bit of carrot cake.
So much for " starve a fever"
Yesterday afternoon I left him sleeping on the couch and took the dogs to the beach, where Winnie met up with a small girl on the promenade.
" Look Mum....big.....titties!" The girl chirped up pointing excitingly to Winnie's line of teats
and I suddenly felt somewhat deflated when the girl added " ewwwwwww they look disgusting ..she needs a bra"
I couldn't disagree
Anyhow, my favourite " nipple" story hails from 1986.
I was a very new Registered Psychiatric staff nurse on a " mother and baby" unit in York and was attending my very first staff meeting in the day room which led off the main entrance . The ward sister was a phenomenally calm and obese woman who never raised her voice even in the most fraught of situations and I remember that right in the middle of discussing a particularly knotty nursing problem , she stopped and raised her hand.
" now I don't want anyone to turn around, or to react in any way" she murmured quietly
" but some unfortunate lady is trying to push her nipples under the sash window"
Now that's professionalism !
Over The Garden Wall
Typical facebook fodder...a dog made up as Dorothy from The Wizard Of Oz
I used to lambast Facebook.
I think the plethora of cute cat photos and banal statements of " what I am having to dinner" gave the place a bad name .
Rightly or wrongly.
Last night I witnessed just how the immediate nature of the phenomenon worked for support and good.
I have a couple of friends that moved recently out of the village. Before that I would see them almost everyday " over the garden wall" so to speak. Most often or not the contact would be a cheerful wave and a hello, but it was contact.
I was sad when they left Trelawnyd.
Last night on facebook, I received a generic message from one partner detailing how the other had been admitted to hospital.
Within minutes, a half dozen Trelawnyd-ites had sent their best wishes and voiced their concern on line.
I liked that.
Perhaps years ago, in a village , gossip would have moved faster than Facebook and there would have been knocks on the door within an hour.
Now, virtual support can be there in seconds.
A sign of the time......yes...
But the sentiment and care behind the action remains the same
Thank Goodness.
Week ReCap
In a week where another nutcase with a gun licence massacred innocents in their place of learning and the Pope looked like he was duped into a publicity disaster by a Kentucky homophobic bigot.
We all have been reminded of the fickle nature of the human spirit.
I was thinking just this thought when I watched a recording of WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? whilst preparing lunch.
It featured the story of broadcaster and journalist Anita Rani and followed the fate of her grandfather's Sikh family when India was partitioned in 1947. In the sectarian violence that followed the formation of Pakistan, millions of people were relocated and well over 200,000 people of all faiths murdered and the personal story of how a member of Rani's family committed suicide by flinging herself down a well rather than be raped by Muslim soldiers made for uncomfortable listening.
What affected me most, was Rani's emotional journey, for at the start of the programme she came over as rather an ambitious and dare I say false character and by the end, and especially after an elderly Sikh man recounted the stories of how his fellow villagers killed their own daughters in a bid to prevent them being abducted, she was transformed from frothy presenter to a profoundly moved and thoughtful individual....
If you get a chance to watch it, do so...it's a fascinating watch.
Anyway
What affected me most, was Rani's emotional journey, for at the start of the programme she came over as rather an ambitious and dare I say false character and by the end, and especially after an elderly Sikh man recounted the stories of how his fellow villagers killed their own daughters in a bid to prevent them being abducted, she was transformed from frothy presenter to a profoundly moved and thoughtful individual....
If you get a chance to watch it, do so...it's a fascinating watch.
Anyway
It's Sunday afternoon and I want to be reminded of happier things.....at home.
The Prof is asleep in the armchair and has covered himself with a blanket..He's left strict instructions
for me to wake him up with a hot cup of tea and a slice of Gay Gordon's cake just before 4pm.
The dogs are all asleep in untidy heaps about the living room and Albert is watching the sparrows arguing in the honeysuckle by the front door.
I have the lunch washing up to do.....
But I shall leave you with this weeks best innuendo from Bake Off
The Prof is asleep in the armchair and has covered himself with a blanket..He's left strict instructions
for me to wake him up with a hot cup of tea and a slice of Gay Gordon's cake just before 4pm.
The dogs are all asleep in untidy heaps about the living room and Albert is watching the sparrows arguing in the honeysuckle by the front door.
I have the lunch washing up to do.....
But I shall leave you with this weeks best innuendo from Bake Off
"Mel: “Four bakers remain. Two boys, two girls, all ready to tackle the semi-final.”
Sue: “I’m semi-hysterical.”
Mel: “I’m semi-excited.”
Sue: “Let’s get the semis on.”
Sue: “I’m semi-hysterical.”
Mel: “I’m semi-excited.”
Sue: “Let’s get the semis on.”
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