So! Is there a problem I wonder??

Its all very difficult… you know what i mean! Marriage I am talking about marriage! My wife is lovely….. really fantastic but there are a couple of issues. For those of you who have been reading my offerings over the last few years i am sure you are aware of my predicament.. I mean the pen issue alone is a difficult one to handle (if you check out my blog from…… it will explain it all) but unfortunately there is more and as I am writing predominantly for myself I feel I can express myself in this column.

Let me explain the issues, she does trend to hide things from me, like the fact that she recently took my ride on lawn mower for a spin and returned it with go faster dents in it, it does go faster now though… few weeks ago she went away and as she wasn’t close at hand to ask, when I was looking for the broom to sweep away something on the ground I had to find it myself! I MEAN how dare she go away!!

Then there’s the things she makes me do that I don’t want to do. Like going to the dentist and making sure I go to my check ups with the doctors . You may say this is all good and for my health but I am not so sure. Maybe she is trying to work out how long I am going to survive?? But that’s not the worst. What’s worse is what she has stared doing recently. She has started cooking for me……….

She made a favourite of mine with a twist.. Rabbit with cumin who knew!

Let me paint a picture for you. For the majority of my adult life I have been in food you know, professionally. We have been together for nearly 11 blissful years and in that time I would cook. And if I may say so myself really really well. After all we do offer cooking classes here in France. In fact the last clients we had, partook in the lessons and well, loved it. So like I say I am the cook of the household.

Then my partner in crime suggested that I had been working very hard one week and she should make dinner instead of me. How lovely I thought a night off! Want any help?? I asked. The answer was a swift no don’t worry you relax in front of the fire. Fated words I can tell you. I did as suggested I relaxed and soon dozed a little. I awoke to a faint call from the kitchen dinner was ready. Off I go not expecting to much. But what I was treated with was… you see I can only describe it as… amazing!!! That’s right, it was for all intents and purpose nearly the best meal I well in ever!! Each bite was a triumph. How bloody dare she!!

I modestly complimented her on the meal but didn’t go to far. Best not to fuel the fire I thought. But after the dishes were done, by me I hasten to add, She suggested a menu for the following evening. How long had she been planning this I thought as the ingredients, I noticed, were all in the fridge. What could I do I reluctantly agreed. For those readers of a jumpy disposition look away as it gets worse.

This is what she grew this year from the Veg patch…. They were delicious…..unfortunately!

In the following weeks as her confidence has grown dinner has become more elaborate, cakes and desserts have been added a black bean brownie even turned up one afternoon. All beautifully cooked and scrumptious. Our next door neighbours have been round and the compliments came thick and fast. I was…no I am! despondent. I mean what do I do. Her cooking is …well how can I say this, dare I say this,… better than mine!!

Was dinner good?? Ye……… Err it was ok🥺🤔🤫

You see dear reader. It’s not that she has taken away my “thing”. The bit of my talent that gives me reason for being. But if she can cook better than I can what is there left for me?? I mean will she need me anymore? Am I now becoming surplus to requirements. I mean anyone can do the washing up!! Can’t they??

Advertisements

A little insight into Urban legends goes a long way……

Image result for space helmet pics

 

 

There is an Urban legend which I would love to be true. The story goes that NASA, the American space agency, spent millions developing  pens that would write in space. I know, I know but think about it how would a normal ball point pen which relies on gravity for the ink to hit the paper work in space. So thus the problem presented to NASA.. and then the millions spent developing it. Ingenious right!!?? Well not so much as the Urban legend continues….. The Russians faced with the same problem came up with an amazing solution, a pencil!! This solution costs almost nothing! And the only fun they had with it was to choose the color of the pencils to be used.

Unfortunately this urban legend among-st thousands of others remains one that millions of us wish were true but aren’t. If you are interested in the correct story click on this link, it is equally as interesting as the legend itself.

http://mentalfloss.com/article/13103/russians-didnt-just-use-pencils-space

However having provided this so far pointless piece of information here’s where it starts to become relevant. It captures your imagination doesn’t it……… You want it to be true….. you want the solution the Russians came up with to be what actually happened. Be honest with yourself its only me and you here.. And that’s the point I am trying to make, in this world where the technical solution is always presented as the best because its innovative,  society makes us believe the person who came up with it is a God! A trend setter, someone to watch, someone we should be following on Facebook err Twitter erm what the hell is the other one and the one after that?????? And for that person ??well he revels in his superiority, his God like status in the world of fame that follows his every move.

But what has this all got to do with me and my life…..ouch!…. our lives ( yes I do have a wife, I know this because she just hit me for not mentioning her). It’s because I am a genius!!! Yup that’s me I had a problem and I came up with a solution that is well,I can only say just shy of Einstein’s theory of relativity! Are you intrigued?? I am, and I am writing this! It concerns… wait for it!…. Washing!

For a while now my other, erm, better half has been gently reminding me that we both live in the house and whilst I do an amazing job of making  mess, it would be nice if I helped out occasionally. I of course jumped at the chance to be helpful and like “Toad” from the book Wind in the Willows offered my services as the local washer woman, scratch that, Man!! After a few weeks of doing this I am of course an absolute success at it, Iwona has had to rewash a few things on a daily basis but those are just teething problems which she can iron out. Stuff that she has to live with I mean she did ask for help!

 

Image result for einstein

 

Anyway let me get on to my genius.. I have noticed that washing, whilst intriguing, is to be quite frank a little bit boring! So girls, and here’s where I need some marketing help, how do you get your man into being interested in doing it, well make it fun!! That’s the answer.. and I just so happen to know how to do this, and no you don’t have to show him parts of your anatomy…. What drives a man other than sex???? Yes, there is food and football/ rugby, the pub etc but what also makes him interested….. yes you have it,, cars!!! Building them driving them, sitting in them and revving the engine up, listening to the sweet exhaust note. We do also dream about them…..a lot! So the idea is we combine the drying process of cloths with cars!!! I know right you see genius!! And getting back to the whole Nasa thing totally doable and yup that’s right, simple! This idea is right up there with my other cool ideas of making a trailer into a padded cell for my children when they were little. Also the other one of funding my dream Aston Martin by selling one of the boys (they are still for sale if anyone is interested although in fairness they are  lot larger and smellier than when they were at 5 and if you do want one its most defiantly for keeps! ).

Of course I have floated this idea with Iwona, I had again to show her that she is living with true perfection. Her reaction was a little  subdued….. The fact is  that somehow her whites have miraculously turned pink in the washing machine, not quite sure how that happened to be honest but like I said teething problems….

Image result for pink clothes on a washing line

Girls are Rubbish!!

 

The Girls of the Household….yup totally Rubbish the both of them!

So you may think my statement above is well, just a little to much?…. BUT no! it bloody well isn’t I have had enough. She has gone too far, she what am I saying THEY! have gone too far, the straw that broke the camels back is well huge, massive, a  world extinction event! The dinosaurs have nothing on this…. You know it!  Hell I am saying it!!! Where is my bloody yogurt!………..erm perhaps I should explain…..

One morning not so long ago I went down to breakfast at the appointed hour, the house was as quite as an empty house could be! Iwona had risen early to go shopping, not provisions for the house, you understand, that’s my job, she had an important visit to make to the garden centre to purchase a few more plants that were “needed!”….Yea right! I looked in the fridge and a disaster presented itself in front of me… You see I like yogurt, and amongst other things, this has been outlawed in my diet because of the few medical issues I am currently dealing with (if you don’t believe me, read the last blog about Brussel Sprouts!). But a few days previously, on a trip to the shops I found a yogurt that I can and would love to eat!! Having purchased this holy grail, I brought it home and placed it in the fridge ready to be dreamed about and savoured till such time as I deemed it appropriate to consume its nectar! Upon opening the fridge, I found it missing! Further investigation ensued and I discovered the package that this oh beautiful item once filed to be discarded, that’s right thrown away without even a thought, in the recycle bin (very important to recycle though these days I have to say).

I am not sure who committed this dastardly crime, but I have an idea, and who their accomplices are! I am not going to confront them directly they would want me to do that wouldn’t they?? Just so that they could tell me I am mad, and it was only a yogurt, tell me that I do things far worse, like oooh I don’t know not listen to them when they talk to me. What man listens to their partner I mean who does that?? So I have done what any sane member of the male population would do, I am writing about it!

So yes, its official, girls are indeed rubbish! Is there evidence for this, well of course there is…. Erm yes there is!! There is many reasons for saying this, look why don’t we just examine the evidence together shall we? The facts which are indisputable and are like I said many too many in fact to list so I shall just give you erm yes just a few!

I am at the ripe old age of 46, the same age in fact when Freud mused “ what do Women want!” So I have to conclude that I am mature in my knowledge of women at this stage, and if Freud thought they were rubbish, then ergo so must I!!

I walked up and down the stairs 5 times yesterday- this by itself is no momentous thing I here you say? Well the reason for going up and down the stairs is? If someone asks you to look at the shower head because it is loose, wouldn’t you tell them about the other things they want you to look at when you were there? Or would you ask them to come back to the bathroom 5 times for 5 different things??

Like I said before my favourite yoghurt is missing from the fridge. Whilst we do live with Bum and George, George well he’s a cat and a man he just wouldn’t, we understand each other you see. And Bum well Bum is a girl and tempted by food but she couldn’t open the fridge could she?? So the ring leader is clear and well she’s a GIRL!!!

Iwona’s desk totally clear, you see bigger than mine how are you supposed to find anything if there is nothing on it !!

Double standards, she constantly tells me I am messy, Pugh! If I put something down for a while a day or two only a small amount of time in the grand scheme of things, I promise you. It gets tidied up, I mean how am I supposed to find it again???? How dare she look at my desk below compared to Hers’ mine is organised, Hers’ is just well look at it!…. Its empty…! What use is that??? And its bigger! Probably best not to talk about size though, she could use that against me?

You see easy everything is there, you just have to look. And a perfect parking place for my Lamborghini!!

Talking of Bum, she won’t give me the ball when we are playing. This is a typical girl trick most men here will understand this but I am sure that for female readers of this blog you will have no idea!

Did I mention the yoghurt!

Hoovering, yes I know its brand ok Vacuuming! We have been married now for…..erm a while? And in that time I have taken up the mantle of the vacuum cleaner err occasionally.. But its occasionally because she doesn’t appreciate it. When I tell her I have vacuumed, do I get recognition, a small ok, big cuddle just to let me know I have done right? A small token of appreciation like well something small and gold with some sort of ribbon on it like a medal but not quite…after all I suppose I didn’t win a war single handed? But no, nothing, and when it comes up in err a heated discussion I am told that she does it all the time as well as the rest of the cleaning; Ironing; washing etc just stuff she always says really. After all I did vacuum, what does she want from me?

And then there is the biggest issue of all. I am a virile; sexy; gorgeous; amazing specimen of manhood and at 46 and a few days old I am in my prime-ish and what did she do well she married me didn’t she! Need I say more! She knew what she was getting into and still she did it!! So absolutely, she can’t complain now can she?

 

I guess the list could go on and on but I won’t bore you with all the details of why or even prove to you any of the claims made above. After all Trump doesn’t have to substantiate anything he claims and he became President of the United States!!

Moreover have you ever looked in a handbag belonging to a GIRL!?? I did once and you can’t go back from that, let me tell you. Its haunting! The whole house has to be sparkly and clean, shinning like a new pin at any given moment even at 6am in the morning whilst I am trying to obtain my erm… beauty sleep! I have been woken up to be told that there is a cobweb that needs to be removed (believe me you cant go back to sleep after that). And yet the handbag if full to the brim of disorganised chaos. Where you will find long forgotten mementos of a life lived, riches and treasures to be discovered. Rabbit holes to be followed. Men don’t have that do they, we have sheds! Or rooms which we convert. Places where if a girls sets foot they are immediately expelled! For fear of them moving something or tidying up (how dare they, I know where everything is.) So as I write this dear reader I have to consider moreover that Girls are indeed Rubbish, I mean how could she have eaten my last yogurt!!!!!!!!

1001 different ways to enjoy a Brussel Sprout!!

 

green round vegetables

Photo by Public Domain Pictures on Pexels.com

You may not know this but a Brussel Sprout is probably the most uninteresting vegetable. There are those who love them (shame on you whoever you are!) and like me, those who couldn’t think of a fate worse than death if they were forced to eat them. In fact as a man, the only way to enjoy a Brussel sprout is the 1001 different ways  that you pass wind after having just come into close contact with a thought of eating one Brussel Sprout! This of course does not affect the female of the species as they, I am assured, do not pass wind.

The reason I bring this up? Well a few years ago it was discovered by an astute doctor that I have only one functioning kidney. The astute doctor in the emergency room at the time was trying to work out why I was so ill. The up shot of this joyous episode was a week or so in hospital with a tube up my, how can I put this politely, my manly attribute?! I must mention the removal of this offending tube was undertaken by two very attractive nurses and overseen by a very strange officially looking man who stood wincing  by the door, which he held open so passers-by could enjoy the spectacle.  I did not rise to the occasion so to speak. A fact which I am still ashamed of! Anyway I digress. The reason I bring this up is that on a recent trip to the consultant who is in charge of my kidney (obviously he hasn’t gotten hold of  it, its still inside me, he just looks after it) I have been told that I have to limit my diet to remove any possibility of consuming oxalates. Now oxalates occur quiet naturally in nature and are designed to pass through our systems to enable our waste  help grow other consumables. It is a bit more complicated than that, but I don’t have a degree in microbiological stuff so I  couldn’t understand a word I read up on the subject. I didn’t read all of the chapter but I did get two lines in. Which anyone who knows is the perfect amount to read should you want to be an arm chair expert in the field!  My wife however who is far more intelligent than me read it all and found four other researcher’s on the subject. She has written me a do’s and don’ts list. I have of course read what she has written, not the full twenty odd pages you understand, but she did a lot of work on it so I stuck it out for three lines. The most glaring of  which has stuck in my mind is that I can only eat Brussel sprouts! They contain almost no oxalates whatsoever! How amazing for me!! And for those who spend time in my company post err lunch!

So off I go in search of the Brussel Sprout mecca! After all having spent more than 20 years in the food industry, having spent most of that time cooking… cleaning,  screaming and of course crying, also occasionally getting thrown out of some of London’s finest restaurants, I should therefore be able to come up with some amazing recipes……  Shouldn’t I???

When Iwona jetted off to see her parents for a few days, the hard work began…  I can tell you it truly was hard work. There was a bit of Hubble Bubble Toil and a hell of a lot of trouble! The smells from the kitchen were amazing! Well not really but I have to build this up a bit don’t I? They smelled well Brussel Sprout-y. And after testing and tasting, my digestion or the result of my digestion smelled shall we say a bit ripe? Not so good in other words. Bum and George (our Dog and Cat) flat refused to sit near me and there are several species of plant that no longer grow around the outside of our bedroom window. Also I am contemplating contacting the American Military  to ascertain if what I have produced could be weaponised…?

The result?? I am sure you are asking if the resulting  are the recipes any good??? 1001 different tastes to try?? Well errr no. I have 4 which are edible and that I like. Should you like to know more then please PM me and I will be happy to share these with you. But what am I to do, I am sure those of you who are worried about my welfare are thinking erm well you probably aren’t worried about my welfare! But I am what am I to do??????? I mean Brussel sprouts for the rest of my days….. How am I going to cope, how can I put up with just them….. and even more importantly how am I ever going to be Romantic again with my other half!!!!!!!!!!?????!!!!

 

I had no choice I posed the question to my Oracle upon her return from seeing her Mum and Dad She asked me if I had read the pages she had written.

“ Of course” I replied. Thinking about the four lines I had read

“Well if you had” she told me, “you would have found the other pages contained an extensive list of veg, meat, fish, diary and loads of recipes that I found for you. “

“ I See” I replied………… You can currently fine be residing in the Dog house….

398cf67d-051d-4083-9e07-5ee373541c3f

 

 

 

 

Time for a break?

Are we there yet??

Christmas comes but once a year and it really is the only time we get to have off. Spending our days lazing around the house….But NO! This year it has been decreed that we go for a quick jaunt into Spain! Leaving home for Christmas does present some challenges one of which is George.

George, our long suffering cat, although I am not sure who suffers more him or us, spends his days lazing around the house, either on the sofa, in Bum’s basket, in the sink( yup I know) or quite a lot of the time, in amongst the dirty clothes basket. (I’ve smelt it and I wouldn’t!!) His nights are supposed to be filled with running, playing, catching mince and generally protecting the house. None of which he does. We live in a house around 250 years old. The walls are stone, but typically of a house built of this age the stone sandwiches earth. Yup that’s it, just earth. Strange you may think but surprisingly we are very warm in the winter and exceptionally cool in the summer with very little help from the heating and we don’t have air conditioning. Due to this tasty stone, earth sandwich, occasionally we may find a hole in the wall where mice can get in. George is supposed to deal with these pests. I have to say I do also put traps down, George doesn’t like to catch mice, he just likes to tell me when the traps need to be changed.

He is, so to speak, his own man err… pet err…..Cat! So when it came time to go for our Christmas Holidays we decided to take George to the lovely Trish who takes care of him whilst we are away. George doesn’t like to travel and if he doesn’t like travelling he absolutely despises the cat cage he has to travel in.

“when I took him to the vet last time with Bum I just let him roam around the car” Iwona said “Just don’t open the windows he will settle after a bit and he will be fine”. I was told words of wisdom? I think you are sensing my impending doom!!

How is it that bloody dog gets top billing?

I picked up George in his favourite blanket, he purred and looked at me. An angel In making. Placing him gently into the car I closed his door. I got in the car, George got out! And so our adventures began. He slunk back to the house an hour later, Iwona let him in, I carried on looking for him as because it was my fault he wondered off I was to be taught a lesson! A recaptured George was placed in the car by Iwona all the time reiterating not to open the windows. I set off, George meowed, scratched at the leather seats and generally caused a nuisance. Then a delightful odour came from the back seats. He had been sick. But it was ok, as he wandered over the door looking out of the window he opened it. George spent the rest of the trip incarcerated in his box meowing to high heaven.

On our travels we visited many beautiful towns of note. Córdoba and Seville were very pretty. I found a lovely barbers for a shave but when I suggested that Iwona went to buy a Flamenco dress whilst I was otherwise occupied, well suffice to say the unspeakable fuzz at the back of my head remained for another days attention. Shame I would have looked great…doing the flamenco!! Holey !

The very Beautiful Ronda!

We had some interesting days driving around, visiting one more wonderful village after another. It took a while though as Iwona doesn’t like to use the in-built Sat Nav in the car preferring her method of looking at her phone map and licking her finger pointing it in the air and then telling me which way to go. An ingenious method! Perhaps?  although I am now an expert at doing a 64 point turn on a road just big enough for a cart whilst looking out on a beautiful vista and 200 foot drop!

Our New Years Eve was spent in Salamanca, a very pretty town with what can only be described as a truly wonderful Cathedral. Unfortunately we were attacked here. Now I consider myself to be a very manly man. 100 kilos of sinew and muscle err and some padding. In my youth and recently I have climbed mountains, sheer rock faces, practised in the martial arts, been in my fair share for scraps and fights. So when I say we were attacked I mean me. Let me describe the scene taking Bum for her evening constitutional, Iwona made the decision that we should skip along a darkened section on a dark path in a dark park. You get it right, it was DARK! Oh, and I was skipping. A sight to behold if I do say so myself. On rounding a corner following my beloved an assailant lay in wait. 100 kilos and err a bit of me collided with a most dangerous and dastardly park bench. The bastard! The damage was a bruised and blooded shin suffice to say it did get the better of me. I got my own back the following day though…….Bum peed on it!

My Nemesis pre Bum!…if you look closely you can see where i managed to dent it?

Off we went to Burgos to pay our respects to El CID. Amazing old town again very beautiful. But El CID’s conversation is a little limited…I suppose that’s what it’s like when you have been dead for over a thousand years! Then onto San Sebastián for tapas on New Year’s Day.

As Pilgrims in years past we wandered these streets of Burgos….Visiting the resting place of El CID again made me feel well Lordish!

And here I am sitting at home. Fire crackling in front of me, a glass of red in my hand, warmth and cheer all that Christmas is about. I dream of our trip. Lazy happy days past and the following year comes to mind …;…2019. I wonder what it will bring. I have made only one New Year’s resolution. To get Iwona to call me Lord Daniel. I think it fitting and appropriate to my standing in our household. I turned to her and asked:

“How do you feel about calling me Lord Daniel??”
All is quiet except for the gentle crackling from the fire.

“ what do you call someone who is married to a lord?” She says finally

“A lady” I reply.

“Mmmmmm what’s the name of someone above that??”

“ a princess?” I reply. “ do you want me to call you Princess??”

She considers this for a time. Looking at the fire, enjoying its warmth and I hope me next to her.

The following day is the 3rd of January, time to get things done. Off I go to pick up George from the cattery. On the way back he meows and complains and I think to myself not much has changed since last year. The Sun is still shinning; it’s still Winter; George still creates strange smells in the back on my car and I am still not called Lord Daniel. My New Year resolution much like  last years has fallen by the wayside

Upon returning home I am greeted by a smiling wife.

“Hello Princess!” She says……

Its been far to long….

Sunday morning coffee shop delight!

Well, I am back and I have to apologise to all of my readers far and wide living in all of the counties of the world. To the three of you I say I am sorry that I haven’t written a blog in the recent months but well, life has just taken over.

Sitting here in what is fast becoming our favourite Sunday morning coffee place, In front of a freshly stoked fire and just after purchasing chicken stuffed with Frois Gras I am enjoying reflecting over the summer months.

The past few months have been quick, exciting, and well lots and lots of fun. I do feel as if my feet haven’t touched the floor. We have welcomed guests from March reacquainted ourselves with some lovely old clients of Amato in May been full over the Summer months, friends have come for a week in September and we still have guests staying with us now, who in fact are not sure when they want to leave! Even my brother, his wife and my sister have joined us for a few days. Thankfully all have given us rave reviews and our average booking review is still 5 out of 5. Thank you all for that! The Summer was hot very hot, I spent a lot of time on a roof replacing tiles and generally being a good handyman, maintaining property of this size can be a daunting prospect, more so if you have to invite workmen’s on to the premises, thankfully under the keen eye of the ever present and king of all things building Dave.

                            Do you like the kitchen table I made, i wonder???

I have become quite proficient in matters of stone, brick, electric, water, and wood. Although he does still finds plenty of reasons to call me a dickhead, and when I tell him that its Mr Dickhead if he doesn’t mind, a scowl and mumbles under his breath ensue.

Wood has started to become more of a feature in our lives. I have developed quiet an attraction to it. I am sure Freud would have something to say about it! However I am enjoying working with it, so much so that after making our kitchen table and shelves from scratch, I have now produced a side board, TV stands and more shelves in the living room. In fact I have already purchased the oak which will become the vanity unit for our bathroom which we will start working on next week, or this week depending on when you read this! I say produced which infers that I have finished them, I have but I haven’t at the same time. Yes, they do exist yes, they are in full use, but when I look at them I kind of feel they could be improved, as my skill set grows I want them to take on more elaborate forms, be that little bit better.

 

img_1321-1

Bob and Bum sharing a moment or are they waiting for food….mmmmm

 

As there has been little mention of the rest of the brood here, I must tell about them…Bum is as happy as ever racing after their deer when they dare to cross the property boundaries. When I told my brother on his visit, he eyed me with suspicion but believed me when on a walk around the property two deers shot across his path closely followed but a panting wiggling Bum! Bob unfortunately passed this year in March but George the cat has taken to eating copious amounts of food which I think deposits itself in his hollow legs. For he isn’t getting fatter just a lot heavier! Now who else in there……Ah yes my lovely wife! Iwona has immersed herself in all things garden, plantings trees, growing plants and our veg patch or potage, we are in France after all, has grown out of all proportions. In fact this coming year we anticipate that our guests will be able to share in its bounty!. Now Iwona being Iwona a means that anything she takes on she excels at.. In the gardening terms this means that what was 5 and a bit acres of scrub, dog kennels and oh my so much concrete! But now it is now an oasis. New beds spring up daily, the local garden centre is so happy with our purchases that I think they are going to offer us (Iwona) seasonal tickets or perhaps even a place on their board! Upon complaining as to the expenditure, although I can’t do this directly as I do like living, it was promised that as its now November it is too late to plant anything. However like the true covert operative she is, her mum I am convinced is a trained Ninja! so it runs in the family, she has her ways of sneaking flowers in. For example one morning this week I woke to find her fully dressed outside with a batch of new plants and a spade. It was so early the Garden centre hadn’t even opened!!

A20155CC-7678-4157-BCEC-A7596A4C2C00

Gardening she says, she still hasn’t moved those leaves yet!!

 

On occasion I am asked about the strength of my French and how I cope with living here having to speak French on a daily basis. Fine, is generally my reply. My French is of course fantastic!! This of course is true well to some extent…I shall give you an example. We frequent a lovely little Pizzeria in a very pretty town close by to us. In fact we go there so often that we we’re invited to their end of season drinks!! How lovely I thought very kind of them. As it was just drinks of course jeans trainers and a fluffy jumper over a T-shirt would suffice for my attire. I even convinced Iwona that she didn’t need to dress up and she changed accordingly. Upon arriving at the event. I noticed that there were many people hovering around in very smart suits, unusual in the countryside, I thought. The lights inside the Restaurant were dimmed and the disco light beams were quite pronounced, the lady who invited us was wearing a beautiful white dress which complimented her well made up face and freshly styled hair, her partner was equally well dressed. Both accepted our gift, thankfully my parents installed in us a desire to never go to an event without a gift, though a bottle of whisky I suppose is a strange gift when one gets Married, yes it turned out we had been invited to a drinks reception for their wedding!!!!!! Walking inside with our jeans we were welcomed with open arms and joy that didn’t miss a beat, and fun was had by all. Though Iwona treated me to evil stares throughout the evening, that was resolved when I agreed that a little more planting this weekend wouldn’t hurt! I am now no longer allowed to insist that my French is good…

A Christmas Message…….post script!

So Christmas has come and gone. A delightful time of year when we all get time to take stock, think about our lives. Where are we going, what are we doing. It’s also a time of presents, laughter and time for family.

My wife brought me a present, nothing unusual about that I am sure you are thinking. Well it isn’t and it is, you see her gift was ingenious! Let me set the scene for you…. I being male, have a tendency to lose things. Car keys, iPad, phone and on one glorious occasion my trousers but that’s a completely different story. My beloved being female has tendency to move my things (although I have now banned her from my workshop, the stress is too much for any Man), as such I do call out to her, on occasion, in distress when I cannot find something vitality important to my sanity. This occurs seldom only about three or four times a day, a little more if she is in a clearing up mood. She is not a fan of me calling out (gently and with love), I never swear or raise my voice, we are a partnership , she cleans the mess I make, like I said a perfect partnership! However, you see the stress does come out when you are looking for something, especially when the person who relocated this prized item tells you that you should have put it somewhere memorable. This, to be honest has become a small, slight problem within our relationship. To cure me of asking for where things are my sweet, sweet wife before Christmas took it upon herself to punish such insurrection by condemning me to a torture best reserved to fiends in the Middle Ages, taken to the tower never to be seen again, or somehow convincing me that I am a small naughty girl named Daisy. She does this with such panache that I must admit she is a true expert, sometime I dont even know its happening. So you see my present, and this is the genius of her, was a tracker, a personal tracker for those things that are lost (moved/tidied up)

Over the holidays we took an extended trip to visit my wife’s parents and sister who were all pleased to see us and happy to meet Bum. Cooking up just over 4000 miles in the Landy can be strenuous, it’s a challenge to get it to 65MPH and even more of challenge to sit in it over not so smooth roads as we bounce around inside. A wonderful trip and worthy of the Christmas spirit, a small Church was visited at the top of a large arse firming hill, whilst several castles were inspected close up, after an hour or so of walking vertically. Some of you who know my wife understand her fascination with partaking of the occasional jaunt.

Before we left we changed up some sterling into Euro to keep us going, and when we got back Iwona told me she had left it in a basket at home should I need some cash. A day or so later she promptly departed our home to go to London and the New Year’s work that lay waiting for her. This morning I was able to find my keys and phone and a couple of other misplaced items, she had moved before she went, easily and quickly using my new gift. I decided that some post-Christmas shopping was required to replenish our stocks of food; red wine and the like. Damn I didn’t have any cash so I looked for the basket containing the required sums to complete my mission.

Baskets it seems are my wife’s equivalent of pillows for other women, as such we have a number of baskets in the house. I didn’t realise how many really till this morning, 42…. It took me nearly half an hour to search all of them, then again just in case I had missed something. If you ask me if I know what is contained in said baskets I have no idea just a jumble of stuff I am sure brought for the purpose of having more baskets! At an hour’s mark I admitted defeat and texted my love for directions. The answer was helpful and came swiftly. I didn’t say in the basket I said in the draw. Fantastic I thought in the, draw why didn’t I think of that, hang on, would she now say that I wasn’t listening to her??? And which bloody draw!!! I am not counting them but I do assure you there are quite a few in the house. a quick text and after admitting I had been looking for the Euro now for some time, she asked why I hadn’t texted before looking and in any case she had moved the Euro to her handbag for safer keeping, the handbag which was now by her side where she sat in her office in London !!!!!! My response was blunt, she countered this though I can’t quite remember what she said it must have been with something loving and wonderful an apology of biblical proportions, bless her…… So it just leaves me to say a very Happy New Year to all of my readers and please say all the best from Daisy to your families……