How to tell you've been married too long

Quite apart from existing purely for your pity entertainment, I have decided that I should be doing more for my faithful readers. Consequently, I offer you here the Every Silver Lining Guide to marriage.  How is it for you?  How do you rate your other half?  Has it all been going on too long?

Yes chums, just answer a few simple, multiple choice questions and the truth (backed by years of drinking borne of desperation solid social research) will be revealed.  You'll thank me later.  Really.

1. When you first got together, you had pet names for each other which made you giggle.  How do you speak to each other affectionately today?
1. We use the same pet names as all those years ago of course!
2. He calls me 'baby'
3. 'You feckin' goon' just about covers it.
2. You are going out to a swish party.  You have lost a few pounds, bought a new dress, done the mani-pedi thing and, overall, you are quite pleased with the way you look.  As you come downstairs, how does your spouse greet you?
1. 'Darling!  You look wonderful - is that a new dress?'
2. 'At last! - better get a wriggle on - the taxi's waiting'
3. 'Fuck me - I didn't know Dame Edna was in town.'
3. You need a haircut and decide to try out a different style.  On arrival home, what does your other half say?
1. 'Darling! You look wonderful - is that a new hairstyle?'
2. Nothing - he doesn't notice.
3. 'Wendolene!  Thanks!  I've been trying to remember the name of that woman in Wallace & Gromit all day.'
4. You have a rare evening in together - no children, no interruptions.  Does he:-
1. Lay the table with flowers and candles and cook you a special romantic dinner featuring your favourite food?
2. Suggest you go to the pub and then call in at the curry house for a Vindaloo?
3. Neck a can of Fosters, slump on the sofa with his hand down his kecks and fall into a deep, snoring slumber, only waking up when you stamp off to bed, saying 'I suppose a shag's out of the question?' in an injured voice.
5. It is your birthday.  What do you receive?
1. Beautiful lingerie, wrapped in delicate lavender-scented tissue and presented in a chic designer box?
2. A large bouquet of flowers and some John Lewis vouchers?
3. A shifty look and a feeble excuse.  Perm any one from the following
1. Erm, I haven't had time.
2. I ordered XXX but it hasn't arrived yet.
3. We don't really do birthdays, do we?
6. It is Valentine's day.  What do you receive?
1. Your whole bedroom is filled with red roses.  There is a bottle of Krug in the fridge and a gift-wrapped Tiffany box left under your pillow.
2. A bunch of slightly wilted garage flowers and a 'humorous' card.
3. A pat on the hand and a 'Valentine's isn't really for married people, is it?'
7. You are getting ready to go out.  How does your husband behave?
1. He runs you a scented bath at the exact temperature you adore and sprinkles rose petals on the surface of the water.
2. He goes in the shower first and uses most of the hot water.
3. He strips off and drops all his clothes on the floor.  On his way to the shower, he diverts past you, waves his giblets at you and shouts "woo-hoo".  Coming out, he drops the wet towel on the bed, waves his giblets at you and shouts "woo-hoo" whilst winking lewdly.
8. You are going to dinner with friends and it is time to leave.  You call up the stairs to your husband.  How does he reply?
1. 'Coming darling - just another dab of aftershave.'
2. 'Won't be a sec - have you seen my belt?'
3. 'Just a feckin' minute woman - I'm shaving my ears.'
9. You overhear your husband having a whispered conversation with someone unseen.  He is crooning, "ooh baby, I love you" and other endearments.  Who is he talking to?
1. His Mother.
2. His girlfriend.
3. The cat.
10. Your husband offers to make you a sandwich for lunch.  What sort?
1. Organic hand cut Italian ham, organic salad ingredients, organic mayonnaise all on hand-made Artisan bread?
2. Marmite.
3. Bombay Mix three inches deep, topped with half a pint of tomato ketchup.

Answers:

Mainly 1s - Your husband is Gay.

Mainly 2s - He's quite a normal bloke, really.

Mainly 3s - The Shah has more than one wife.

Why you always need your mummy

I love my daughter very much but God knows she has been put on this earth to give me white hairs.  Viz last Friday.  We agree that we will go shopping together the following morning and she insists that we get up and out early  (never a problem for me, a world-class insomniac).

However.... there is one tiny fly in the ointment.  And that fly would be the 18th birthday of one of her best friends which falls the day before. Obviously they are going out to celebrate but "it's just going to be a quiet night - only three of us - we're going to the Ice Bar, then out for dinner...it won't be a late one... and I'll stay at Catherine's and pick you up the next morning."

"Lovely," say I, whilst chortling inside.

Unsurprisingly, Saturday morning arrives right on schedule but daughter does not.  Eventually, at around 9.30, I phone her.

"hello?" says a faint voice.  "that you mum?"  After a brief discussion punctuated by groans (hers) and stifled laughter (mine), she announces she will be home very soon and, true to her word, shortly afterwards she stumbles into the kitchen where she sits like this:-

No idea why it's come out all stretched :-(

We make it into town, and it's like dragging an old Granny round with me.  She "needs" to sit down in every shop and constantly complains about her sore feet, her headache, she feels sick etc etc.  Eventually I give up, buy her lunch and then we go home with about half our plans accomplished.

Meanwhile, son has arrived home, fresh from his post-degree celebrations.  Well, when I say 'fresh' I actually mean the exact opposite.  Whey-faced and grumpy, he is lying on the sofa cuddling the cat.  He expresses his displeasure at coming home to an empty house then announces that his hangover is so bad, he has "chunned".*

This produces squeals of revulsion from his sister who pronounces him "deesq"** and hurriedly leaves the room.

On Sunday morning, the Shah and I leave children asleep and take ourselves off to a garden centre where we pass an hour or so bickering amiably and the Shah spends an uncharacteristic amount of money on plants.  (Really there is something wrong with him but that would take up a whole new post and regular readers might suggest a title like "A statement of the bleeding obvious" ahem).  

About half an hour into our visit, my mobile rings and son's name flashes up on the screen.

"Where is everybody?" he asks in a voice with a distinct edge to it.  

"Ah bless," I reply.  "Are you feeling unloved and unwanted?  Do you want mummy to come home?" expecting his customary sarky reply.

"YES!" comes the surprising answer.

And so it is that I find myself some time later, hugging a 6 foot nearly-21-year-old and promising to love him and look after him and cook endless meals and do his washing, and, and, and.  "Good" says a muffled voice into my shoulder.

Which just goes to prove that, no matter how big and grown up you think you are, you always need your mummy.

*Chunned - the past tense of 'chunder' that well known Australian verb.

**Deesq - a short form of the word 'disgusting'.  A word much too long and onerous to use in its entirety if you are under 25.

Talking to Teenagers

We are at home, my daughter and I.  It is morning and I am having to wait in for good old British Gas to call round and replace the water cylinder they mis-sold us last year.  

We are laughing hysterically at some really silly animal photos that she is showing me on her Instagram feed and I comment that one of her friends is 'soppy' about animals. (Old fashioned word, but it fitted the bill perfectly).  The following conversation ensues:-

Her:  I'm glad I'm not soppy.  I'm more....what's the word?  That other word...you know ...also begins with 's'....can't think of it....

Me: Sweet? Sneaky?  Silly?

Her:  No, no and no!  You know it....it's on the tip of my tongue...

Me:   Safe? Saturated? Scummy? 

Her: No!  Be serious - this is driving me mad!

Me:  Seasick? Sizzling?  Sebaceous?

Her:  Gaaah!

Me: Skint? Stupid?  Solipsistic?

Her:  NO!  Oh wait - I've got it - CYNICAL!  Yeah, that's it.

Me: (Attempting to speak despite mouthful of carpet)  I'm so glad all that money we spent on your education wasn't wasted......*crawls away weeping gently*

Silent Sunday 21st April 2013

NaPoWriMo

This is NaPoWriMo or National Poetry Writing Month during which the aim is to write a poem a day for the whole of April.  Oh yeah, right. Like that's going to happen round this neck of the woods.  

I am hopeless at writing serious poetry.  Actually, I'm hopeless at writing serious anything.  I admire people who can do it, but mostly, it just makes me snigger at its awfulness or (more likely) yawn and turn the page.  Raised as I was on a diet of Spike Milligan and Edward Lear, I have a fair appetite for doggerel and stupid Limericks but I also enjoy a bit of Browning and I loved the Liverpool Poets as a teenager. However, the closest I can get to producing anything remotely sober and considered is by playing with the Instant Poetry App on my phone which can produce something quite convincing.  Might try shoving a few words together and sending them to a competition one day - if only I can be bothered.

When the children were younger, I used to make up the odd rhyme to keep them entertained and one of their all time favourites was The Sad Story of Bella Balloo.  Many's the long car journey that has been enlivened by this being roared in the back seat of the car.....

The Sad Story of Bella Balloo

Bella Balloo was forty two and fat as a fat thing could be,

Her mother said 'Bel -  you're starting to swell - you'll soon be as fat as me!

Take care of yourself or you'll be on the shelf until you're a hundred and three.'

'No, no', said our Bella, 'I'll find a nice fella - one who will make a good hubby.

Who is fair, fat and kind and one who won't mind if his darling intended is chubby'.

But sadly for B, she picked upon me, I'm Herman, the German, the rogue.

I'm round fair and spotty, with a big flabby botty and a passion for Kylie Minogue.

I fed her on pies and told her sweet lies, she loved me for better or wurst.

I fed her on honey and stole all her money and, eventually, poor Bella burst.

Margaret Thatcher

It must be a sign of the times, but when I heard about the demise of Margaret Thatcher today (in a text from a friend in Singapore, bizarrely), did I turn on the radio for the details?  Nope.  Did I switch on the TV to catch the headlines? Nay.  Did I pick up a newspaper or access its website?  No siree.  I just rushed straight to my Twitter feed to see what the world had to say.  The comments, by and large, were reasonably bland and respectful.  There was the occasional idiot making an inappropriate joke or two but nothing like the bile I had been expecting.  Still, it was a lesson in social media one-upmanship with Gerri Halliwell informing us that Maggie had been the original Spice Girl.  Really?  And bless little Harry Styles of One Direction who immediately tweeted an RIP to the former Prime Minister.  Below are some of the hilarious comments that followed:-



Elsewhere it was rumoured that, in the USA, some folk thought Cher had popped her clogs due to the hashtag #nowthatchersdead.

Then I happened across this - also on Twitter, although I can't seem to find out who the originator was, so I can't credit it properly.  Very accurate and made me laugh...




The internet is also awash with her finest quotes - especially the one which goes "if you want something said, ask a man.  If you want something done, ask a woman", but I prefer this one: "Being powerful is like being a lady   If you have to say you are, you aren't."


Oh yes, and I hope you appreciate my very restrained headline.  Was tempted by "the lady's now for burning" but thought it might be a bit disrespectful under the circs.