I have been chatting to my dear skin and blister and we have been exchanging notes on our respective spouses, not something we normally do, but there we are. And we find we have a 'Rodney' from 'Only Fools and Horses' and a'Victor' from 'One Foot In The Grave.'
The following is one of 'Rodney's' moments. My sister and her dearly beloved put their caravan into winter storage in a farmer's field, along with dozens of others, all lined up in regimented rows. With spring a-springing and the sap rising, it was generally felt that the time had come to liberate the caravan from its winter mufflings, ready for a wash and brush up and a first outing. So off sis and spouse went to do the deed.
One caravan wrapped in its winter warmer can look very much like another and so it proved to be at the farmer's field. They arrived at their caravan, which was still looking all cosy warm in its wrappings, but so, also was the one next to it. Two identically covered caravans side by side.
And here is where 'Rodney' steps up to the plate. Did he undertake a little investigative work to ascertain if he was about to unwrap the beast belonging to him? No, dear reader, he did not. Convinced to the last fibre in his six foot frame, that he knew his own beast when he encountered it, 'Rodney' swung into action.
The tight fitting cover on the caravan was secured by leather straps that passed underneath the van. 'Rodney' had three of them undone, before sis pointed out that he was working on the wrong van.She had bought a smidgeon of common sense to the situation and checked out the adjacent caravan and, guess what? As if you haven't already guessed. Yep, he was untying the wrong one.
Now, it's all very well unbuckling all those leather straps with gay abandon and hauling them from underneath the van, but when it came time to put the wretched things back again, it was a very different kettle of fish. A bit like underarm lassoeing, or gentle underarm bowling in cricket. It took several attempts before the said straps made it to the other side of the caravan and could be secured again. Bet he doesn't go in for that one again next year.
Now, fair do's. That was a 'Rodney' moment. Now we come to my 'Victor.' Spouse, in the main, is fairly easygoing and doesn't get his dander up very often, but take him into a supermarket and things can change. We amble inside and collect our shopping in the trolley provided in perfect amity with one another, but get to the check-out and a whole different beast emerges. All over those dividing bars the supermarkets provide, to separate one customer's shopping from the nexts. If the poor old check-out person has kept all the bars down his/her end, there's 'trouble at t'mill.' Spouse frowns and starts quietly huffing and puffing, edging forward to try and reach at least one of them to slide up our end. Never mind that we nearly crush the person and their trolley in front of us, the dividing bar is the ultimate goal. Once he has secured at least two, he is happy. A seraphic smile spreads across his chops and all is well with the world.
Thinking of supermarkets, makes me think of 'dithering Dora.' Strictly speaking, I should not be including this particular item in this blog, as it does not come under a 'Victor' moment, or maybe it does. Parking in a space in the supermarket - quite a straightforward process for most people, but not for spouse. I would just drive in, find the nearest space, drive in, switch the engine off and happily hotfoot it into the supermarket. Not spouse. He has to either reverse into a space; never, never drive into one because you can't see when you're trying to get out, (that's never stopped me), or, even better find a drive-through. Two empty spaces end to end. Drive through one, park in the other and 'bob's your uncle', you're facing outwards, no reversing involved.
On any given visit to the supermarket we could probably spend the rest of our lives circumnavigating the car park for exactly the right spot, me rolling my eyes and waiting for my next birthday to come around. It puts me in mind of our old Border Collie Dog, who took ages to cock his leg for a pee. He had to find exactly the right blade of grass before he was prompted into action. Is there a cure for spouse's supermarket foibles? I doubt it. They are like the poor, always with us and I might just as well save my breath to cool my porridge, as to vent my spleen about it all, or every time we visit the food emporium
I could go on my own, I hear you remark. Well, yes I could, but would I miss one nanosecond of spouse's shennanigans? I don't think so. Besides, who knows what other adventures or mishaps might occur when my back was turned.
It is 16th April, Easter Sunday. May I wish everyone a very happy, holy and prayerful Easter. There will be no blog next weekend as we are moving house. I might have a few things to do ... but, with luck, I'll be back after that. Happy days.