Is Romance Dead? … Like The Three-Bird-Roast?

Hi All

Fiddle-de-dee I’m free! Oh Lord please don’t bring on any more holidays. Especially ones where I feel like I have to act (believe me it is an act) like a normal human being and do all the crap things that normal human beings have to do. Mind, having said that it would lead you to believing that I consider there is such a thing as a normal human being. And as I have said many times before – the more I see of some people – the more I prefer plants. Not you guys, obviously, you guys read this blog because you are  lovely/crazy like me/just plain bored – tick/delete as appropriate.

I last blogged on Good Friday – a misnomer if ever I heard one. The day deteriorated with arguments about how to get a 10′ x 8′ shed floor base all the way up the garden, under a five-foot arch. Riddle me this dudes. Impossible.

‘I’ll take the arch down!’ Richard snapped. Yes snapped.

‘Piss off,’ I retaliated.

‘How the hell do you expect me to get an eight foot base under a five-foot arch? AND I can barely use my right arm!’ he snapped again.

Too many naughty snaps, sunbeam.

‘You figure it out,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘And then, when you’ve done that, go to the bloody doctor and get the slight twinge in your shoulder – which obviously prevents you from doing anything – sorted out!

The answer was staring him in the face. It was the same conundrum as the summer-house – take it around and over the pond! I’ll leave it there because I wouldn’t want you to think that I am in the habit of making grown men cry. He’d have been swimming with the fishes had he tried dismantling my archway with my lovely Golden Rain rambler, variegated ivy and two clematis! He has no respect for anything in the garden, including me, when I’m in the garden.

Back to my original theme. Saturday was filled with my son and titchy grandchildren coming over to bring eggs and daffodils. I say titchy grandchildren in the hope that you will pick up on the subliminal message and assume that I am a young grandma and not Methuselah – though I admit, there are more days when the later seems to apply than the former! But hey ho, I’m young at heart. At heart I’m thirty and still swigging barley wine at the local disco with my adorable cousin Dawn and prancing around to I’m In The Mood For Dancing … but that’s another story… and quite scary!

Sunday … I cooked. Stop laughing. I can cook – when the moon is full and madness overcomes me. I’d suggested to Richard that he invited his sister and her husband and his mum, Betty, over for lunch. Times were noted, lists were made, the frozen three-bird roast was hauled from the bottom of the freezer having not been used at Christmas. Three-bird roast? Dear God. What insensitive shit thought that one up? A chicken inside a duck inside a turkey? It wouldn’t even happen in nature! Yuck. But as I have said before I am no soap-box vegetarian and if my man wants meat my man gets meat. Caveman!

I digress. Everything went marvellously well – until said visitors turned up half an hour early – because stupid Richard told me they were leaving home half an hour later than they actually did. It has long been my policy to get visitors plastered well before I dish-up. That way I have never had a bad word uttered regarding my cock-ups. Of course they all opted for tea so that buggered up that little plan. It was OK though. Just the one disaster. I’d placed the stuffing right up on the top shelf above the three bird abomination and then forgot that it was in there. So it had two hours instead of forty-five minutes. Not to worry. It was super crunchy – just the way everyone liked it – apparently.

Oh I forgot to mention that Carol and Michael, Richards sister and brother-in-law brought me a lovely pot of miniature daffodils and primulas and Carol had made me a super cup cake thingy at her craft group. Betty brought me flowers. I’d bought them Easter eggs. Yes, I’D bought them Easter eggs!

Later that evening, when all guests had gone I turned to Richard, who was sloshed on home-made wine and said, ‘I didn’t get anything from you for Easter then?’

He straightened his face (he just sits with a stupid grin plastered all over his mush when sloshed) and said, ‘You don’t eat chocolate.’

I just shook my head and turned up the TV. Pillock! Amazing how everyone else who had crossed the threshold managed to ‘figure it out.’ And this is the man who wanted to take down my arch! I tell you – romance is flipping dead in the water here.

Yesterday the grand kiddies came over for the day to see their young grandma. Jake made me two pictures and Grace just made a mess! But it was lovely. Although that bloody irritating  CBeebies channel has a lot to answer for. There are only so many times you can ‘all sing a song together’ and enjoy it. Unless, of course, you have the memory of a goldfish and forget after two minutes that you ever sang the bloody irritating tune? And I use the word tune very lightly.

Today I am free of all that. Richard has just crept in from the ‘night-shift’ and slumbers as I write. I have cooked Chea’s chuck and she has stopped pestering. Today now belongs to me. Knowing my luck some idiot will arrive but I’ve considered this and closed the lounge-to-kitchen curtains, plonked on my headphones and I’m listening to a Beatle’s CD which I came across whilst dusting under the sofa in preparation for the visitors! I appear to have put In My Life on replay and I am now floating off on cloud nine. Actually, I think I might just go and see if I can find The Nolan’s because suddenly I really am In The Mood For Dancing.

 

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Take care my lovelies x

 

PS I’m sure I should mention my books but I’ve kinda run out of time

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14 thoughts on “Is Romance Dead? … Like The Three-Bird-Roast?

  1. Hi Gail, I love your new layout. Great blog. Busy weekend by the sound of it, you had better get some writing done this week or you will go crazy. (crazier). How old is Jake? His picture is awesome.

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    • Thank you Adele. Jake is 6. I love his sketches. I still have one that my son, Matt, did at that age and it’s priceless to me. How they evolve, from not being able to colour within the lines, to pics’ that are actually recognisable is amazing. x

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  2. Still laughing at the thought of getting the base for the shed through the arch. Those problems happen here too… I am lucky though mine is a gardener and won’t destroy plants.
    Thanks again for another great laugh.

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    • How did you find a gardener Dawn? Do you have any idea how jealous I am? The funny thing is Richard tells everyone that WE are doing this in the garden and WE have done that. He wouldn’t know a dandelion from a dahlia! And other than lug compost bags up the garden for me (and erect the odd shed of course) does zilch!! But on the good side – he has little opinion on what I grow and how many times I want to move fences or erect another greenhouse.So it’s possibly a blessing in disguise. But he still isn’t taking down my arch!! ha ha x

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  3. Poor old Richard can;t do right, even when he tries his best. If he had given you and egg, I bet you’d have given it to your g children anyway. Is it a timber base for the shed? Imagine you;re propping it on bricks or something – important not to put it straight onto the soil or concrete, as I’m sure you know, because if you do it’ll rot, you need ventilation underneath. I remember ‘I’m in the mood for dancing’, marvellous song. Do you remember ‘the night has a thousand eyes’ (Bobby Vee) . I do, but I was very young at the time.

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    • Hi Geoffrey. The irony is, my son gave me a huge Cadbury’s egg which I haven’t touched yet, BUT I took pity on Richard last night – because he had already eaten 3 eggs and didn’t have any left – and gave him one of the bars of chocolate that was included in my egg! The shed is going down on slabs with wooden post things on top so should be fine. A nice dry base and air-flow beneath the wooden post things. I’m sure there is a technical term for them but … x

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  4. Lol, your incident with the shed base, reminded me strongly of an incident with a very old, rusty, and heavy Series 2 tub which Mud had decided to moved once again. So this meant my help was needed and so I was dragged away from my garden AGAIN and as the only hand hold I could find on the incredibly heavy and cumbersome tub that didn’t crumble away to dust when I touched it, had a rusty nail sticking down and into the fleshy part of my thumb, it was a tad painfull!!!

    Mud was about as sympathetic as an ice-cube and informed me that I should have found a better hand hold!!! How? There wasn’t a solid bit of tub available for me to hold on to and my response to his complete lack of concern reflected this point!!!! Suffice to say, it was some time before he asked me to help him again.

    He’s currently hovering, waiting for me to help him clear one of the sheds which currently houses several other Land Rover panels and HE is nursing a painful rib(s) strain which he has had for several days now and yet refuses to go see the doctor about. Sound familiar? 🙂

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    • Sounds like Richard and Mud were separated at birth! Not quite sure how we put up with them really. Richard has to erect the shed on Saturday so Monday’s blog will probably need censoring! I’m also hoping that as the weather improves he can continue doing up Betsy. Damn thing, stuck in front of my lounge window! Honestly. Rib strain you say? You haven’t been a bit free with the old elbow have you? ha ha xx

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  5. I remember both of those tunes, and I am a lot older than you, I am certain. Hmm! Dismantle arch! Well, that would have been my ex and could well be my daughter. no gardener she. I cannot do much out there now due to ill health. Some holidays are like that all the way around.

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    • I go mad if Richard tramples all over my little growing things. He thinks anything green is a weed. I just noticed tonight that the frogs have arrived and the pond is full of spawn. x

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  6. I couldn’t stop laughing – I think you have my husband’s clone for a husband! Substitue honeysuckle for what you have growing on your arch and a trellis for the arch and you would have a replay of what occurred here last week! Hilarious. I have never heard of the three bird roast – I agree – yuck. You learn something new everyday – very entertaining.

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