I had a birthday last week and am happy to say lots of friends and relations sent me cards. One lovely friend, who is very feminine in a Za Za Gabor way, sent me a card; very pink and VERY SPAARKLY. Now, this being post-Christmas, I have had my fill of sparkly. Indeed, there was a glut of it in our neck of the woods. Added to this, I had just undertaken a major de-sparkle of the whole house and was sitting back smugly, enjoying a hardly-remembered clean -looking domestic landscape. So, much as I love my friend I was not keen to re-introduce pink glitter into my surroundings.
Unfortunately, I mentioned to spouse that maybe I would give the card a little shake outside before setting it on our mantle, hoping to keep the sparkle on the outside and not on the inside. I forgot all about it and went off to my Saturday morning writers group in good heart. Bad idea. I think spouse must have made a new year's resolution he has not yet shared with me. I mention the germ of an idea and he is on it, taking action. My psyche cannot cope with much more of this. I am used to an uncoiled spring; one who ruminates on a suggestion for a while, (see previous blog re. decorating and you will get my drift).
Do not tell me, 'woman, you cannot be pleased.' Indeed, I am easily pleased. The smalles things give me huge pleasure. I am just not used to this instant sorting out of things. To whit - one birthday card taken outside by spouse and soundly smacked against the house wall. Not just once, dear reader. No, that would be far too discreet. As told to me, he took it out to the FRONT of the house and bashed it several times against the wall. The prisoner admitted, when questioned, that yes, people were passing by and the neighbours were getting a good eyeful.
Why didn't he go to the back of the house? There's a socking great hedge there that gives us privacy from the rest of the populace. Why do a Basil Fawlty at the front? I only hope he didn't leap up and down in rage, a-la Basil, whilst he was bashing seven bells out of it.
This incident took place a few days ago and he has only just 'fessed up to it and only because I happened to remark upon how distant the neighbours appear to have been to us recently. I don't think I want to go knocking on doors to explain about removing pink sparkle from our lives - they may think I'm as barking as he is. Any aspirations I may have held as being 'normal' in Yorkshire' have gone to the wall (literally). I may as well get used to the idea.