Anyway, friday at the end of February. I no longer know the date because I invested £3 on Amazon on a snazzy plain dialled watch with no date which I would be able to read in the dead of night if I woke up, ,which I never do.
This replaced my old one which had the date and a light but which I couldn't read when I didn't wake up as the light was feeble and me blind without my bifocals which don't focus at such a short distance and my new one isn't luminous which wouldn't have worked because luminosity needs some light to maintain an ethereal glow and Shirley can't sleep with any light whatsoever or noise except Radio 5 Live blaring out all night which would waken the dead and then tells me; "Well that's the worst night ever! Look at me! No quilt, you selfish pig and I've been up seven times for a wee and now my day's ruined ! I'm exhausted and don't even think of THAT!," as I reach out a hand to comfort her whilst still unconscious.
What a pleasure to be home from our break away. This morning, before we left and still engorged from the night before, I had Eggs Benedict, which if you want the recipe seems to be a muffin cut in half, toasted and left to harden for three days topped with two "poached "eggs which in my case I believe were two eggs broken onto a ladle and threatened with being immersed in tepid water before being poured onto the thickest sliced three week old exclusively farm-hardened ham with a yellowed sour sauce to complete another superb meal. I even managed to fail to flavour them with flaked sea salt which looks like very large bits of cristallined dandruff and which burnt through the top layers of my tongue.
Being English I sent my compliments to the chef.
Ah yes, home a little hungry but not wishing to disturb Shirley whilst she caught up with 80,000 further tweets from or about Josh Groban ( He of Number 13 Blog ), who stares straight into my eyes if I turn her laptop on or off and frankly I wonder if there's anything I need to know, I searched the freezer for good old fish and chips and peas and found it almost impossible to get either the chips or the peas out of the minute holes that Shirley makes in the bags.
See to my mind the freezer keeps things frozen and therefore fresh without the danger of drying out but so as not to annoy Shirley I spent twenty minutes prising and squeezing each pea and chip out in fear of her wrath if I were to dare to snip an extra teeny weeny bit off each corner.
It's worse with "Full Half Pounders" of boiled sweets. They just rip apart and boy do I get it in the neck for that.
I am sitting on the toilet reading and laughing.
ReplyDeleteThe Wrath of Shirley. Similar to The Wrath of Khan. But without Leonard Nimoy.
ReplyDeleteWho has written this as it seems to have come from myself and I don't remember writing it. The clue might be in Nimoy!
DeleteStill waiting!
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