A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Sunday, 13 February 2011
I wrote two posts, re-read them, decided they were too gloomy and self-obsessed, and so I deleted them, especially in the light of what has happened since.
This morning, I felt rejected and dejected because Mr G had told me to take away the cards and gift I had given him as it wasn't Valentine's Day yet, despite the fact that the TV ads have been telling us for days that this is Valentine's Weekend (a new one on me!). I gave them to him today as I shall be out all day tomorrow, so I wanted to spend a little more time and linger in the romantic mood (despite the fact that he reduced me to tears again yesterday with one of his sudden, cruel, uncalled-for jibes).
So I sadly put away my Valentine offerings, feeling rather like a bower bird on a David Attenborough programme when the would-be mate rejects its offerings of leaves and flowers, and its feathers droop and it wanders sadly off, dropping its gifts on the ground.
Mr G said he was going off to the DIY shop, so I wasted an hour on the computer. When I came down on his return, what did I find on the table but a small box and two cards in bright red envelopes. 'Huh!' I thought. 'Shall I just ignore them? After all, I've been told it isn't Valentine's Day yet.'
But he urged me to open them. One was a very funny card, supposedly from Flad to me, and the other a romantic one addressed to his 'special person', with teddy bears rubbing noses on it. "Will you open yours now?" I asked him and rushed to get them. My card showing an elderly couple sitting on either end of a bench and holding hands at arms' length, with a caption about how we would still love each other when we're old and smell of wee, didn't quite match up to the soppy teddies. My other one looked boring until you opened it, whereupon pop-ups of flowers and hearts sprang out.
I gave him his gift box of Dolce and Gabbana smellies. Then I opened the box he had given me. Inside was a beautifully crafted, asymmetrical silver heart, with wiggly bits on, all studded in glittering stones. He told me he had had it specially made and it was for my birthday as well (March 17th). Does that mean they are real diamonds? I felt so guilty that my gift wasn't as special as his. We have never bothered with Valentine gifts before. Buying him something was an impulse on my part. I think he probably bought the necklace for my birthday but decided to give it to me now.
He asked me to put it on. I am wearing grotty sweats and a furry gilet because it's so cold. The necklace wouldn't show beneath the layers. So I told him I shall wear it tomorrow for my writers' lunch at the Groucho Club. I've never been there before so I'm looking forward to it.
So what I thought was his rejection of my gifts wasn't that at all. His trip to town wasn't to the DIY store, it was to buy cards. It was just a matter of timing. He couldn't open mine until he could give me his. The bower birds had to have their beaks full at the same time. I shall never understand men!