I’m not sitting on the floor. Hooray! Now you may wonder why I should be celebrating this fact. This is because twice a week this is what I usually do for an hour and a half while Master Benedict has his tennis lessons. Oh, the indignity of it all; a woman of my advanced years forced to sit on the floor because of the overcrowding at the Tennis Centre. But today I have a seat. There was one left, just suitable for a fat bottomed lady who looked like she might be preggers…and that of course was me. Of course since my gut has expanded a number of people have mistakenly thought I am pregnant. The last time I was in the mobile library and the gentleman driver piped up;
“I suppose you’ll be wanting a girl this time.”
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m just fat.”
Now I’m not saying he was embarrassed but it was so hot in the van the sprinkler system came on. I wasn’t embarrassed though; I’ve got used to people looking at my tummy and wondering whether an alien is going to burst forth from my stomach like it did from John Hurt’s.
Anyway I have breaking news… I have new iron! Well, I offered to purchase the new iron for Mr Turley but he opted to buy one himself. Oh how disappointed I was; thwarted in my plans to reinstate a new pink iron.
But can you imagine my utter horror when… Mr Turley brings home a LILAC coloured iron. LILAC?? What has come over him? Buying himself a lilac iron is just downright worrying. What will he do next? Buy a checked pinafore? Or some oven gloves decorated with daisies? Perhaps some woolly slippers with pink fur and ribbons on? Oh no, no, no! What is happening to the man I married?
Can it be that he is turning into a HOUSEWIFE???
Tonight Readers I am going to check he has not developed man breasts. I hope not or all my worst dreams will be coming true…
Also, despite Mr Turley’s reassurances I AM STILL WAITING FOR BIRTHDAY PRESENT. I’m becoming increasingly despondent. Perhaps the Good Mr Turley doesn’t love me anymore. Perhaps he has a found a slimmer, younger woman with a pert bottom who actually likes cooking. He has assured me he hasn’t (although not for want of trying) and he has given me some hints what my prezzie might be;
1. It's not jewellery. (Blast; my preferred choice after chocolate.)
2. It’s not chocolate. (Oh the absolute rotter; fancy denying me the ultimate pleasure.)
3. It’s not underwear. (Thank goodness, they’re sick of me at the Marks and Spencer’s Returns Counter.)
Now I’ve demanded a PROPER clue and here’s how Mr Turley began our conversation…
“On Saturday when we were coming back from tennis and we were in the traffic queue at the junction by the railway bridge….”
“Yeeessssss?” interrupts Mrs Turley rapidly loosing interest.
“…You could see one then...”
“Lovely darling, I look forward to the high speed train running through the back garden,” replies Mrs Turley.
“It’s not a train.” Flinch of annoyance crosses Mr Turley’s face
“It’s an anorak and a Guide to Train Spotting by B. O. Ring?”
“A pedestrian crossing?” (Mrs Turley is now on a wind-up mission.)
“Two rubbish bins and a telephone booth?”
“Look, do you want it or not?”
“Depends what it is Mr Turley.”
“I’m not telling you what it is.”
“Well how do I know if I want it or not?”
“I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“It’s a new car! I knew it! I knew it! A Mercedes?”
“It’s not a car.”
“Yes it is!”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it isn’t.”
"Yes, it is!"
“It is a new car, isn’t it?”
“This may well be your last Birthday.”
Well there you go; I still haven’t got a present and I may soon be dead. Humph.
So on what may be my final, final note and continuing on the picture analysis theme. Please give me your reactions to the picture below. Again, please feel free to be as descriptive as you wish.
(By the way I always look as seductive as Nigella when I'm washing the greens; it's my dressing gown that does it.)
I will of course be performing in depth psycho analysis for any of you who care to leave comments.
© Jane Turley 2008
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