RECYCLING A CAT AND DIRECTIONALLY CHALLENGED, AGAIN

   Good morning dear reader and welcome to a sunny Sunday morning at Comb Towers. I hope you have had a good week and enjoyed the lovely autumnal weather we have been having. Once again, Spouse and I have been wielding the loppers and secateurs in our garden and also at our local library garden. Thankfully, the Council gardeners collect the garden waste from there and compost it for us, otherwise I don't know what we would do. The gardens surround the library building and are quite extensive and the borders densly planted. This week we had some other volunteers come to help us and so managed to create a truckload of garden waste.

   Talking of waste - and now I'm talking recycling - our local supermarket has now provided a large bin for "soft plastics" to be recycled. I am delighted about this new development as I like to recycle as much as possible. So, I have started rinsing my "soft plastics" and leaving them to dry before putting them into my recycling bag ready to take to the supermarket. One evening this week, I rinsed out a largish baguette wrapper and left it to dry in the conservatory. The wrapper was brown and white  and quite long. I stretched it out to dry and went on my merry way. Well now, dear reader, here's the thing - revenge is sweet and oh, if only I had known I was going to spook Spouse with it, I would have enjoyed it all the more.

   The following morning Spouse sashayed downstairs, half asleep and bleary-eyed,  to make a cup of tea and idly stared out of the kitchen towards the conservatory and then ... jumped out of his skin. He saw a dead cat stretched out on the floor. 'What the blue blazes?' thinks he. Ha ha, I only wished I could have seen his face! Nervously he opened the door leading into the conservatory and peered more closely at it. Of course, it wasn't a dead cat at all, only my brown and white wrapper.  And, of course, dear reader, Spouse then wanted to know from yours truly, why must I randomly strew wrappers about the place to give him horrible shocks first thing in the morning? Oh, I so enjoyed that. It made up for him spooking me with ghostly Ruth last week.

   Although that wasn't quite the end of it. I nearly got myself into trouble again at the supermarket when I was posting all my "soft plastics" into their bin a day or two later. Spouse was at my side and as I put the offending wrapper in the bin, I said , 'There goes the dead cat.' A woman going into the store, stopped and gave me  a very dark look. Before she could ask the question I hastened to reassure her. 'No, really. It isn't a dead cat. It just looks like one.' I'm not sure she was entirely convinced but at least she didn't alert the staff to this strange woman at the recycling bin. Spouse hustled me away, shaking his head.  'If it's not dead ducks, it's dead cats,' he said, referring to a previous supermarket incident some years previously. Ah well, I enjoyed his fright and we both live to fight another day.

   And fight another day we most certainly did, dear reader. Since the advent of Covid in our lives and the two lockdowns, I have walked miles and miles around our village in an effort to maintain some fitness and thus have worn out all my walking boots and trainers. So, I proposed a trip to the county town of Beverley in East Yorkshire for a little shopping  and perhaps a spot of lunch. Spouse had to mull this one over, (see blog  1st November 2016 "How To Make A Yorkshireman Cry" ... "tell him he's going shopping".)  In the event he decided he was up for it and off we went. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and we were in harmony with eachother. 

   Well, that didn't last. We arrived in Beverley, a pretty town with an ancient Minster dating back to the thirteenth century. We parked in the supermarket car park, as customers are allowed three hours free parking and as we were going to do a large shop there later, that seemed O.K. to us. 'So,' says Spouse, 'where is Mountain Warehouse then?'  'Mmm,' says I. 'I'm not sure I can remember. It's so long since we have been here, I think I've forgotten.' Suddenly, I was assailed by doubts. 'They do have one here, don't they?' Dear reader, I don't think I need to describe the withering look that came my way. You can imagine that one.  'You mean we might have come all this way and it's not here at all? Quite possibly in some other town in another place and not this place?'  'Well ... just not sure that's all. I'll Google it.' Out comes the phone and a quick Google search reassures me that Mountain Warehouse is to be found in the main thoroughfare of the town. Sigh of relief on that one.

   We both decided to avail ourselves of the supermarket's Ladies and Gents facilities before heading off to town. I put my phone in the car glove box and headed off for the Ladies. We went our separate ways and I suggested I meet Spouse at the supermarket entrance shortly. So, there I was, hanging about the entrance and eventually Spouse came striding out towards me. He had that incredulous and rather resigned look on his face. 'What are you doing out here?' he asked. 'Waiting for you,' I said brightly. 'We're going into town.'  With a visible effort, Spouse suppressed his frustration with me and forebore to grind his teeth too much. 'Yes, we are. Why didn't you turn right out of the Ladies and wait at the entrance there, as that is the direction we go to the town, instead of walking all the way back through the store to wait at the entrance that does not lead to the town.'

   Oh, dearie me, dear reader. You know and I know and he knows that I am directionally challenged. In Covid times the store had a one way entrance and exit system. But now that has gone and both doors can be used. So what I thought of as the exit is now also an entrance!! So, we strode back through the store and went on our way to the town. And then ... 'So, what road is Mountain Warehouse on?'  asks Spouse.  'Mmm, don't really know,' says I. 'In the town centre somewhere.'  'Well, get you phone out and have a look,' he suggested.  'Ah, can't do that,' says I. 'The phone is in the car.'  You know that straw that broke the camel's back, dear reader? That was about Spouse's state by now. I have to say it really is most unlike him, but I think enough was enough. He strode through the streets muttering in quite a loud voice about a wife who (a) doesn't know if the shop is there in the first place, (b) can't find her way out of a paper bag, let alone the right store entrance and (c) can't bring the phone for the directions to find the store anyway. I was so embarrassed that I almost felt like announcing to my fellow shoppers that it was alright, he was only out for the day and would soon be taken home to a place of safety.

   Luckily for me, or possibly to Spouse's unerring sense of direction (drat his eyes), we found the shop fairly easily and I was able to renew my footwear for the coming season. Thankfully Spouse regained his usual good humour and we enjoyed a slap up lunch outdoors in the sunshine. (Note to self - next time keep phone with you at all times!). Have a good week, dear reader and I hope to be here next week as there are no further proposed shopping expeditions on the horizon, so I should keep my head on my shoulders for now, providing there are no more dead cats in our conservatory.