Monday 20 December 2010

Blue

I popped into the salon this morning and asked Tracy to touch-up my highlights. Well there aren't many pleasures left at my age ! As usual, she tactfully declined, and I had to settle for the regular nose, ear and brows trim. Outside, it was still cold, but nothing like the glacial temperature inside our house, where The Lady of The House has declared one of her door-slamming/ crockery rattling fests. Married men will be familiar with the Heller-esque paradox- "Whats up, pet? / If you don't know I'm not going to tell you."  Hmmm - looks like they've just upped the number of missions again !
Years of experience have shown me that intelligence is the key to these situations, so I consulted Wikileaks (AKA Ruth, the cleaning lady). Apparently the critical word here is "Anniversary". During lachrymose conversations while the pair of them were "tidying" my (now redundant) drinks cupboard, expressions such as "thirty five feckin years of this" were regrettably deployed.
So that's what all the fuss is about. Not a problem. Now that the roads are a bit better, I'll just pop down to the filling station and pick up a bunch of these very good value carnations. Sorted.




Or perhaps I may have to resort to "Our song"


4 comments:

  1. Word of advice, OM: After she's drunk the case of wine I would watch out for the flying empties...

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  2. Oh well...if you insist upon carrying on down this particular road I suppose you had better give me the address of the flower selling filling station. Carnations make a nice splash of colour at a winter funeral.

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  3. You are obviously the kind of man that likes to live live on the edge..!
    My advice would be to take up base jumping - probably a lot less risk than forgetting an anniversary.

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  4. Gentlemen. Or should I say Gentlemice ? You have obviously never seen The Master at work.

    Granted, I did have to play the chocolate card which has reduced hostilities to the level currently found along the 38th parallel.

    As my trump card, I am reserving a little post-festive break somewhere nice with a cake named after it. If she stops moaning, she can come with me.

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