Yes, I replied calmly: I did. I experienced that filth; I have a right to blog about it.
Are you going to keep blogging about me? he asked, fearfully.
Probably, I replied. And walked out of the kitchen...
And so, I think to myself each time he makes a faux pas, that's one for the blog...
Such as just ten minutes ago. The silly old hypochondriac saw black marking all down his index finger and rubbed at it plaintively. Is it a bruise? he asked.
I dunno, I replied. Does it hurt?
He licked it, rubbed again, and the black marking went.
Last week, our local friendly priest came round to visit, armed with his holy water and proceeded to tell Mr P all about the forthcoming trip to Lourdes - there are 29 of them going.
Mr P has no knowledge of the Roman Catholic religion whatsoever (a bit like me, who only converted last year so the girls could receive a decent education in this village...) and just about refrained himself from asking who was playing. For our non-British visitors, Lords is a famous cricket ground in the south of England. Mr P thought 29 priests were going in for six...
Cricket is a bit of a sticking point for Mr Parsnip. Whilst on honeymoon in Sri Lanka, our taxi driver pointed out the national cricket ground. Being quite aware that Mr P knows as much about cricket as I do about black pudding hurling, I was rather astounded to hear the tripe which started to issue forth from his mouth in his attempt to be 'a bloke'. So I turned to him with a raised eyebrow and sweetly asked, Who's the England Cricket Captain at the moment, darling?
He nudged me hard, turned a little pale underneath his Fab Lolly tan and mouthed at me to shut up.
A red rag to a bull, I'm afraid...if there's one thing I don't like to smell, it's bull sh*t and so I proceeded to question him about the current line-up and whether he thought Ian Botham or Graeme Gooch would represent us in the next World Series (or whatever the daft name is for an equally daft, and boring, sport).
It seems a little unfair to Parsnip-bate all the time, though, so Charles, that's all I'll throw out on you today!
Daughters #1 and #2 return to us tomorrow from their Spanish holiday with the ex. #1 has fallen 'in lurve' with a 15-year old and has proclaimed that her current boyfriend (the callow, spotty yoof I cannot abide) is 'a bit of an ass, really'. Music to my ears! 'Dan' (the new one) even has #2's approval, so he can't be bad - or possibly he bought her an ice lolly...
I am really looking forward to seeing the little angels. My ears haven't bled with white noise, I haven't said, uhum; aha; hmmm; yes, whatever; STOP IT! for two weeks and I fear my vocal cords may be seizing up. They go back to High School on Wednesday - indeed, it is #2's first day and year at Big School and she is petrified. She keeps trying on her uniform and showing us various different looks. I keep telling her to knot her tie properly and then her big sister takes her to one side, tells her she looks 'a spoff' and adjusts it so it is hanging down almost to her navel.
I have, personally, got rather broody just recently, and even mentioned the pitter-patter of tiny feet to Mr P who looked rather dyspepsic for a while. Then I realised there's no room in the house; it'd have to sleep in the new conservatory, 'cause I'm b*ggered if any mewling, puking thing other than Mr P is sleeping with me...So I may get a budgie instead...
I feel fairly certain that, upon the return of the girls, all broodiness will vanish like the Autumn dew on an Indian Summer's morn (how's that for a bit of prosaic claptrap?). I will crave my solitude and silence, will desperately want to clean kitchen floors, trouble-shoot silly websites, visit pharmacies in the middle of nowhere to see how their TV installations are going, and bake coffee cakes. The image I uploaded above is a bit of jiggery-pokery performed by Mr P using his PhotoShop. Four #2 daughters surrounding me...no wonder I had to have the glass of wine.Two are definitely enough!
PS. For the concerned amongst you, Arthur reared his ugly 'head' again yesterday for Round 2. I won. I await his resurgence. Although I will miss him when he is gone...
10 comments:
I'm so glad you are blogging again!!! Reading your blogs always amuses me so much, and I need that sort of amusement just now. So thanks! ;)
How lovely for you to be teen-free for the past two weeks! I did notice a certain carefree (as opposed to careworn) air about you.
Husband is the same way as your Mr P - completely oblivious about important sports matches/events, yet ever making the feeble attempt to be in the know. I supply him with notecards covering sporting news so he can at least appear to be, if not knowledgeable, at least acquainted, with the game of the moment.
I love your photo shop picture! (as well as your "prosaic claptrap"). I hear you - two are more than enough!
And congrats on continued Arthur success!
Karen: I obviously have an awful lot of junk stored up in this head and it needs to come out in some way as I don't possess my own 'Arthur'. But thanks for continuing to stop by and for your patience with my silence!
Keli: Notecards! What a fantastic idea. I am evil enough, though, to slip in the odd red herring for Mr P - just to keep him on his toes, mind!
The photo is good, isn't it? Mr P dickied around with another one which showed him having an argument with himself over the barbeque. I argue with myself all the time, so I wasn't quite as impressed...
And yes, how odd? I sent a response to your lovely email and then it all went quiet - should I resend it to you?
Please do, Agnes. It's totally unlike me not to respond, especially to you who is nowhere on my list of banished, massively stupid beings (actually, that's a short list of one - I have made some progress).
I apologize for not receiving your e-mail. It's highly possible the misspelling of "counterfeit" is contagious.
Whenever my son goes to the barber shop he reads up on the internet about the latest soccer twaddle so that he can have a conversation with the guy cutting his hair. It starts young, this being a "man" thing.
Photoshop is the best way to increase your brood. So much cheaper. And it won't ruin your pelvic floor.
Linda: the pelvic floor sailed off into the sunset many years ago. A sneeze or violent coughing fit is now a great cause for consternation. So I agree with you implicitly.
Mr P got a kitten on Sunday night - Oscar - this can be my baby for the time being. Then I will break his character and build it up again, in my mould, such as my own mother would have done! Job jobbed!
Success, Agnes! I am in receipt, finally, of your e-mail. Thanks so much for resending! I will respond shortly...
Thanks for stopping by my blogs. Have fun with your girls. I am sure it will be nice to have them back!
It's a big question, isn't it? Blog about the loved one(s) or not. I would never blog anything even remotely negative just in case the mrs ;) reads too much into it. plus, i would never write anything negative about her anyway :)
You should actually take every chance you get to blog about other peoples mishaps, telling of ones own already make up for the bigger part of blogging. Go for it, I'm waiting.
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