Sally-Part 35. TO RUSSIA WITH LOVE !

If you are free to send a message, please do, as you, whoever you are, if you are just one person, are my most loyal reader! Kind and warm regards from England, David Nash. davidnash@live.co.uk

Sally-Part 34. SO, SHIRLEY, HOW MANY ROLLS SHALL I BUY FOR THE TWO OF US ?

THREE DAYS OF SOLID SUNSHINE. TAKEN FROM MY VERANDA 29th MARCH 2012

Right, so no more foreign holidays and no more two-night breaks and no more dreadful pub lunches as you will have read in a previous episode!

So that just leaves Shirley cooking, both at home and in our caravan  at Auchenlarie which I think I've already mentioned elsewhere. I'll check.

I would love to take over the cooking but my attempts have always seen the children begging their mother never to let me do it again!

Look, I didn't know you had to cook sausages before putting them in the batter for " Toad In The Hole " and I don't think it was my fault that the oven door hadn't shut when I only quarter-cooked the chicken Kievs!

Our static caravan is set about one hundred feet above the coast and facing south in south-west Scotland's Dumfries and Galloway. We enjoy all-day sun and spectacular views in a particularlarly picturesque part of the world and I'm writing this there at the end of three hot, windless days at the end of March when it should reasonably be cold and stormy. We have slept on the veranda and on the beach in our secluded cove and beside a river way out in the countryside.

That much sleep can make a man hungry and because adamant intentions are soon forgotten, we have ventured to eat out again!

My safe Scampi and chips on the first night was excellent from the site's takeaway, though Shirley's incinerated breaded haddock sat so heavily on her stomach that it caused her to sink into a coma.

And then last night we went into Gatehouse of Fleet and consumed ( "ate" doesn't do justice to the huge portions ) Steak pie, peas, chips and a pint, "Special" for £6:95 a go.

Even Shirley, who never leaves a morsel on any plate, had to admit defeat! So try "The Bank Of Fleet" next time you're passing through on a Wednesday.

And today, with a drive up into the hills scheduled we planned to pick up a picnic at The Marbury Smokehouse, but not before Shirley had made some emergency sandwiches out of the last few bits of cheddar cheese and pink sauce in case the smokehouse was shut, which it wasn't.

" I'm not coming in! You can choose and we'll share one between us! " were my instructions as I  got out the car and walked past the sign ( RIGHT! MY ADVISER ASSURES ME THAT I REALLY AM THICK AND SHE SIMPLY CAN'T UNDERSTAND WHY I DON'T UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN VERBS AND THINGS....." YOU WALKED PAST THE SIGN BUT YOU PASSED THE SIGN! GOD IT'S SO EASY! DID YOU NOT LISTEN TO A THING AT SCHOOL?"  )( No! Boys are sitting dreaming about rescuing girls from the clutches of dragons, not learning about verbs, nouns,pronouns and adjectives! Chinese seems easier to me ) which I didn't read but which I, for some reason thought said, " STOP HERE FOR YOUR DELICIOUS TAKEAWAY PICNIC! FROM ONLY £6:75 "

So I asked for a picnic only to be told that they didn't do picnics and that the sign which I hadn't read referred to customers using the courtyard as a picnic area to consume the food that they had bought within.

I was then thrown into a quandary by being presented with a menu which I scanned and immediately couldn't remember what I wanted but I did like the sound of the children's portion of flaked smoked salmon on chips but then couldn't remember how many portions two people would need and so borrowing the menu I shot out to the car to get reminded.

My reminder reminded me that we only required one portion and as it was still my choice that she would like cold smoked salmon with dill and hollandaise sauce.

Back inside within thirty seconds and having completely forgotten what "I" wanted, I asked for the chef's recommendation and came away only ten minutes later, because the preparationiste had been stuck on the phone taking a large order from someone else who didn't know what they wanted, with a hot-smoked salmon baguette ( which is a fancy and therefore much more expensive word for a roll ), with a side dish of salad ( and that means a few cut up leaves which are supposed to do you good but not as much good as they do rabbits, when I would have rather had a good serving of chips smothered in salt with a big pickled onion! ) for only £6:75. Mm! That probably doesn't sound too much to you Londoners but up here that's nearly a week's shopping!

As we drove along, Shirley seemed not to enjoy the smell that she alone could detect coming from the tightly knotted carrier bag.

HOWEVER! When we stopped to share our treat. IT WAS HEAVEN AND WORTH EVERY PENNY!

Go there! Spend your life's savings and find out what taste and flavour and scrumptiousness really are!

AT BLOOMIN' LAST ! Food to write about with enthusiasm!

AND THIS IS WHERE WE ATE IT BEFORE SNOOZING ON THE SAND BANK! THE BIG WATER OF FLEET VIADUCT WHICH I SNAPPED FROM THE HILL OPPOSITE, MANAGING TO SOMEHOW IMPRINT AN ADVERTISING LOGO ON IT!

And the dry cheese sandwiches got fed to the ducks!

CHEESE ON TOAST CHEZ-MOI ANYONE ? BETTER IGNORE THE PRODUCTION FIGURES !THIS IS NOT "THE" SANDWICH BUT A FAIR REPRESENTATION OF IT, FOLLOWING "OH BUGGER! DAVID! I'VE BURNT MY CHEESE ON TOAST AGAIN! HERE YOU ARE, YOU CAN HAVE IT!

On yer bike! We ate them half an hour later because one baguette just wasn't enough!

I should have over-ridden the proffered advice and bought two!

I'm dead again! 

Sally-Part 33. SHIRLEY....IN TRAINING FOR THE PAMPLONA BULL RUN !

I HELD MY NERVE AS THIS BRUTE SIDE-STEPPED MY OUTSTRETCHED ARMS AND CHARGED AFTER SHIRLEY! YOU CAN SEE TINY WHIFFS OF SOIL  ON THE RIGHT THROWN UP DURING HER DESPERATE RUN FOR SANCTUARY IN THE CLAN MACPHEE MONUMENT ON COLONSAY

You can see Golden Eagles on Colonsay and you can watch in amazement as crows rise to mob buzzards who fly upside down, extending their talons upwards to deter the crows.

You can watch fat cuckoo chicks sitting on power lines being fed by hoards of tiny reed warblers and not, as an arrogant " expert " said to me dismissively in the hotel bar when I told him what I'd seen, " You mean attacking! " and turning to his fellow drinkers in the bar and motioning towards me went " Tch! ", his chin nearly jumping over his head in derision!

 I found out years later that I had been right all along but I obviously carry the humiliation quite close to the surface

These might have been the same group of men that Shirley asked some years before if they had seen me, "A six foot man with a beard" when she was waiting to go somewhere and I had disappeared and she went into the bar to see if I was in there and they, without looking up from their drinks grunted "Naw!"

Few men say "Naw!" to my wife and live to tell the tale! She must have been in a good mood that day!

The only problem there was that I didn't HAVE a beard!

INTERLUDE:

How unobservant some women are!

And how unobservant are men?

 I mean, well, all men have had their wives stand in front of them and say, "Well, what do you think?" And the poor man then has to try and take his eyes off the telly for long enough to try and work out what he's supposed to have noticed!

Then his wife collapses in fury and goes on at him for far too long, especially if snooker or a Bond film is on, about how much she hates him and how she wishes she had listened to her mother and married dependable Frank from thirty seven, before bursting into tears and running up stairs for a major convulsion behind the locked bedroom door.

What I recommend men do if this does happens in your house is as follows...... Wait until the worst of the sobbing has died down and put on your trainers. Open the front door and call upstairs "If you're over your hissy fit I'm sure you'd like to come down and cook me some dinner. Lasagne would be awesome!"

 And then run! As fast and as far as you can and don't go home for three days!

BACK TO COLONSAY!

Cows and sheep graze by the roadside and at most give you a mournful look as you walk past.

Whenever we go to the Island Shirley writes a list of her favourite places to visit and ticks off each one after we've been there.

There's one walk in particular which we both enjoy.

We park at the entrance to Baleromindhuh Farm and walk the three miles or so via the unspoilt Silver Beaches and back across the magnificent Strand, passing the haunting monument repaired relatively recently by the dispersed members of the McPhee Clan to honour the memory of the last McPhee Chief, Malcolm killed on that spot by a renegade MacDonald in 1623.

SHIRLEY, NOW CALM AFTER HER FRIGHT, (see below ) ON THE BEAUTIFUL CABLE BAY

Passing through the farm gate you walk upwards across open land with a few sheep and cows grazing quietly in the distance.

But Shirley doesn't like cattle. She believes that they are all just waiting to charge her and she has been known to refuse a walk if one is visible from two miles away.

So on one particular day we were about half way to the monument, that is about a half a mile from it and  Shirley stood stock still and moaned, "Did you hear that?"

"No! What?" I said a little wearily.

"A bull!" Her voice rising with anxiety.

"Where is it?" I tried again with even greater weariness.

"There! No you fool THERE!" Quite animated now and pointing at a dot on the far horizon which if you looked at it through powerful binoculars you could just make out was a youngster.

"Nothing to worry about I can assure you!" I said, failing to assure her!

"I don't like it!" She growled.

"But it's nowhere near!" I soothed.

"What if it sees me and charges?" She whimpered.

"For goodness sake, it's half a mile away and it's only a calf and you're in no danger at all!" I replied sympathetically.

"I still don't like it! It's a fully grown bull and I'm heading for the monument compound! At least I'll be safe in there! You can do what you want!" Her chin all aquiver

The noise or the palpable fear must have pricked the young creature's interest as it started ambling over towards us.
 

THE WEE MITE BEFORE I CUT THE WIRE! HE!HE!HE!

"Oh My God David! Do something! I'll run! You stop it!" And she was off, on legs considerably shorter than her father's short ones and at a speed that amazed me, staring wildly backwards over her shoulder, stumbling over heather clumps and rocks and shouting in terror, "Catch it! Stop It! I told you you idiot! I'm going to be killed! HEELLPP!"

The three week old bullock came trundling up towards me with Bambi eyes and delightful little four-legged skips of joy. He almost purred!

But he'd seen Shirley belting off into the distance and probably thinking that it was a game of "Chase me!" neatly side-stepped my waiting outstretched arms and picked up speed to join in with her!

I whispered as it trundled passed, " Stop! Oh please stop!" And then as it didn't seem to have any intention of stopping, a little more forcefully, "OK then, my little beauty, KILL!

KILL! KILL BOY! KILL!CRUSH,GORE,TRAMPLE,THEN FINISH HER OFF!

It was a question of who would reach the compound first! The small, wild, screaming creature or the tiny bullock!

The former won and I managed to hide my disappointment at finding her still standing and compose myself well enough by the time I arrived at her sanctuary to  try and offer a reassuring arm around her shoulder and a "There there, it's all over now! You did VERY well and I'm VERY proud of you!"

"I told you!" she wept. "I told you that they're vicious! And what did you do you useless lump of lard? Nothing! That's what you did, NOTHING!"

ONE KNACKERED BULL AFTER SHIRLEY OUTRAN HIM TO THE McPHEE MONUMENT

The bullock, standing nonchalantly grazing some way off received my most withering look!

OK! It really was a full-grown Highland bull with enormous horns!

 And I WAS scared..... witless!

( No I wasn't, it really was a sweet little calf! That last tosh was just in case Shirley read it! )

Next year, though Shirley doesn't know it yet,I'm booking a holiday in Pamplona and you know what happens there!

Sally- Part 32. WATER DIVINER EXTRAORDINAIRE!

I didn't think that I believed in anything and have scoffed at people my whole life who blindly did, which brings me to a "visitor centre" on a bleak, foggy and freezing autumnal afternoon on a lonely moor in Devon.

I was the only person there and as Shirley would never go into such places with me, I left her in the car in a windswept and deserted carpark.

I'm interested in all the "ologies" and Shirley's interested in none! In fact Shirley has no interest whatsoever in how or why anything works. And I don't mean that in a disparaging way. She's just a woman. And of course I didn't mean THAT in a disparaging way either but although commonsense tells me to stop digging this hole right now, I must carry on for a little while longer and let fate take it's course!

When we first met, we must have been out one evening and I must have said something romantic about how lucky I was to have found her and how the moon must have been smiling down on us and when she asked me why people said that, I realised that her short-sightedness meant that she had never seen the face in the moon!

I can still get her to touch anywhere in the car and the horn goes off and she unquestionably accepts my explanation of electrostatic forces creating a circuit. ( N:B Other ladies reading this.....that is not true...the real cause is telepathic waves!

Last night Shirley asked me if the reason she couldn't see the stars was because the moon wasn't out lighting them up?

In every other way Shirley is exceptionally knowledgeable and I often have to bow to her superiority!

 Anyway, after that short thought diversion, I read my way around the displays until, upstairs I read about Water-Divining, one of the biggest loads of nonsense you could be fooled by, or so I thought!

On a table were a pair of metallic right-angled  copper rods with plastic sleeves on the handles and an invitation to stand in one corner holding them parallel to the floor, elbows tight against one's ribs and  thus to walk slowly to the corner diagonally opposite.

So making absolutely sure that there really was no one else around to see the foolishness about to take place, I followed the instructions and I hoped that to support my appalling cynicism that nothing happened.

But, blow me, it did! Both rods swung towards each other!

Obviously I had moved inadvertently so I retraced my steps, made sure every muscle was tightened to the point of seizure and tried again and the rods moved again!

Repeat followed repeat and each time the rods moved with the left stronger than the right.

"Ridiculous!" I snorted, not really fooling myself at all!

" Nearly had me fooled there! " I said to no one and left.

On the way out I saw a man at work in his office and mentioned to him what had just happened and wondered if he had any knowledge on the subject.

" Follow me! " he said and grabbing a forked Hazel branch standing against a wall he led me outside to an area in the car park just in front of our car and turned to face a stream.

Shirley watched this with a furrowed brow, stifling her impatience because I had already been more than a minute and a half.

The man grabbed me firmly around the shoulders and each of us holding one fork of the branch we walked towards the stream.

The entire branch turned in our hands! It was not like a Ouija board with someone controlling the pointer and scaring the life out of vulnerable souls! This thing moved each time we tried it and I was staring at his hand intent on exposing him as a fraud!

I thanked him, made some inane remark about science not being able to explain everything, mentioned Gamma-radiation bursts and wondered if he could explain why wherever I touched myself I got a terrible pain.

He simply took my hand, looked at it briefly and said, " You've got a broken finger! ", shook his head in bemused wonder and disappeared back into his office.

When I got back in the car Shirley was drying her tears and laughing uncontrollably!

"I've wet myself  laughing  you idiot!"

" What on earth were you doing you twit? " ( I have totally moderated her actual words here! )

" Water Divining darling! And it's amazing because it actually, really and I'm not just saying it, works! "

" You looked like a complete idiot! Now if you don't mind you've wasted ten minutes here and if we don't get back quickly I'm going to miss " DEAL " So get your foot down!"

 "Water Divining indeed!" She guffawed!

It DOES work!

 Honest!

Sally-Part 31. TOM! ALMOST THE GREATEST MARKET TRADER IN THE WORLD!

David! This lady likes this bag but do you have it in black?

Talking of helpers at market, one of my greatest, if not the only, admirer of me and my work was my father-in-law, the irrepressible Tom.

Tom loved everyone and everyone loved Tom! He smiled and he laughed and he joshed with his grandchildren, cheating dreadfully if he played them at table tennis or snooker.

He loved them and as he lived at the house that stood at the end of my garden, they were constantly in and out at all times to see him or their grandma and eat his perpetual fry-ups!

TOM WITH JONATHAN AT ALNMOUTH 1976

His love didn't extend to wiping their noses!

 Mind you, Gemma's nose required a very brave person to wipe it as emanating from it for much of her babyhood were two avocado green snakes! If Tom took her to the beach in her buggy, she returned with her snakes encrusted with sand, like an egg-laying turtle returning to the sea after a strenuous night.

Tom travelled to Blyth on his bike. Well actually, my bike. An old-fashioned solid metal-brake-levered one that I'd bought from a retired miner.

He, Tom and not the miner, weighed the best part of twenty stone and with an inside leg measuement of only twenty two inches and measuring  five foot four in his socks, he was massive with a barrel of a torso. His stomach would press against my car's dashboard.

 He was a tough Glaswegian whose father had died of peritonitis whilst working in the Govan shipyards aged thirty three in 1929, when Tom was eight and whose mother had had to bring up three kids in hard times, herself becoming a French-polisher in Edinburgh and living to one hundred and three years of age.

Although the bike's brakes burnt out rapidly and gave up any attempt to stop him, he could still be seen charging off to the bookies, using his heels on the road surface to slow himself down. He had a brilliant brain that could work out odds at lightning speed but unfortunately, for the most part, couldn't pick a winner.....like most punters and that's why there aren't many poor bookies!

That bike spent a lot of time upside down having it's chain adjusted for some reason!

Tom loved coming to market but he did drive me mad over one thing.

Every few minutes and for once I'm not exaggerating, he would call out, whether I was serving someone or not, " David! This lady loves this bag but do you have it in black?"

Well, my leather comes as offcuts from furniture makers and almost no one wants black furniture and therefore I get very little black leather!

Then or now.

I would have told Tom this at the start of each show he did with me but still the question came in!

My first reply would be reasonably calm and polite...." I'm sorry Tom, could you tell the lady what I've told you about where the leather comes from and why there's no black?"

"O.K. there son! It had slipped my mind but I remember the noo!"

And then a few minutes later, "David! This lady loves this bag but do you have it in black?"

My second reply would be just as polite but I can't really say the same for the following twenty!

There was a fair amount of bad-tempered swearing by the end of the day!

I left Tom to cope on his own at one summer show, making sure that there was a tarpaulin for him to throw over everything if it rained.

When I returned to pack up and it had been a hot  dry day, I was struck by a nasty smell coming from the cover which he hadn't had to use and when I lifted it there were six broken fresh eggs in a squashed paper bag!

"Tom! What's this?" holding up the dripping bag.

"Are they yours Davey boy?"

"No Tom! I haven't been here all day have I?"

"Ah Well! They could be mine but did you tread on them?"

"No Tom! I smelt them as soon as I got out the car and the heat from the sun has obviously partly cooked them hasn't it?"

"If you say so Davey boy. So they must be mine I suppose. But I can still use them so I'll put them in a wee carrier and take them home."

"Would Shirley like them?" This a genuine question that I remember ignoring.

 Now Davey I've taken down several phone numbers of ladies who liked your bags but were wondering if you did them in black......................"!

Sally-Part 30. THE GREATEST LADY MARKET TRADER IN THE WORLD!

Nothing can prepare a household for a four day visit from Sally, mostly because it'll stretch into seventeen days or a month and wives and husbands will have long stopped talking to each other or washing their children weeks before there's any glimpse of the end in sight.

An all-pervading sense of frustration stretching to infinity ruins any attempt to remain civil to Sally as saucepans get burned, crumbs pile up everywhere, unwanted fish appear and rot in the fridge and pound blocks of cheddar cheese get "accidently" dropped into Sally's home made celery soup which uneaten except by herself fills the house with noxious reek from the evening of the second day until she leaves, usually by force after days of silence and me suddenly cracking and yelling after a particularly withering look from my wife and begging looks from my children, " MUM! You are leaving! NOW! Get your bags packed and I'll be waiting in the car! What? No, I haven't checked the train timetables; you'll get on the first one available! What? What do you mean," I'm not leaving Shirley with you in such a temper you bully!" ?

Oblivious to the marriages she has wrecked, Sally would travel from son to son, outstaying her welcome, breaking precious porcelain, leaving endless cups of undrunk tea all over the place, breaking fridge doors by opening them and using them as a seat whilst her toast burnt to ashes in the then forever unusable toaster, driving the kids mad by borrowing their "Chopper" bikes to go shopping on, the parents madder by talking endless twaddle about the shape and colour of obscure friends' rooms and local shopkeepers agog with wonder after she'd shown them her family photographs and told them everything about everyone she'd ever known.

But worse, far worse than anything else were the pins and needles that she, I think, deliberately left stuck in furniture arms or dropped on the floor despite being ordered on arrival not, under any circumstances, to start repairing her clothes or anyone elses during her visit. I would have to be up at dawn to sweep the house with a strong magnet to prevent the children inadvertently treading on one or putting one in their mouths.

Sally had a thing about old clothes which, seeing in a junk shop ( long before the modern days of the genteel "Charity" shops which now choke our high streets and wreck any hope of restoring a thrivng local shopping centre ) she would buy and without washing , take apart to remodel for herself but never ever, ever complete!

Anything knitted would be undone and the balls of dirty wool thrown onto a mountain of hundreds of others which if you touched them would turn your hands black.

She had intended to reknit them into baby clothes. Poor babies!

One Christmas, knowing that no one else could stand the thought of her destroying their festivities we invited Sally up to ours and as usual all attempts to be tolerant disappeared within the first three minutes of drivel.

Coming quite forcefully into my room and grabbing me even more forcefully by the throat Shirley "suggested" that I might like to get Sally to do one of the two shows that I had mistakenly double-booked for the same day.

Getting her out of the house by 8am was a major feat on it's own but I managed and  set her up in Newcastle's Guildhall with a large selection of shoulder bags, a money bag with a float and instructions to not talk to customers unless they asked for help and not to leave the stall unmanned at any time without asking a fellow trader to watch it whilst she went to the toilet or get a cup of tea and a sandwich and if she could manage it to stand all day and definitely never to sit and read a book as so many traders still seem to do before complaining that they'd had a bad day.

In those days I displayed on a rug on the floor and people could walk around and between the stock and choose. Well on this particular day I was due to go straight off to the other venue leaving Sally in her element, for she had been brought up as a market trader and took my leave but not before a colleague I was passing suddenly exclaimed "Oh MyGod! Will you look at that!" and as I turned I'm afraid that Sally was back in her TV watching stance, bent from the waist, legs stradling my display, with her back to the crowd, her skirt risen and displaying herself in an inappropriate manner!

And then the selling started, as if she was back in her youth," 'Ere you are ladies! lovely bags wot me son makes and blimey look 'ow cheap and 'and made and all!"

I left and had a terrible day selling almost nothing at a new place where the organisers had forgotten or simply couldn't afford to advertise and I've done a few of them!

Back at the Guildhall Sally stood flushed and triumphant with not a bag left!

"Mum! Where are my bags?"

"All gorn darlin'!" She was still talking Cockney. "I cud av sold loads more but I ran art didn' I?  Youse shud av leftus moran youse did!"

I was shocked! I took the empty money bag off the chair where I'd left it and said, "Mum, where's the money?"

"Up me bloomers darlin! That's where yer money's safest! That's what me mum tort us! Ere y'ar!" and she started ladling the stuff out from under her skirt!

"Oh! And I boughta few fings an orl!"

And there piled at the back was enough stuff to make a lot of other traders very happy that I'd brought my mum!

Sally-Part 29. NAKED HERO FIGHTS OFF TERRIFYING BAT ATTACK !

GLEBE COTTAGE< COLONSAY> THE SCENE OF THE TERRIFYING BAT ATTACK

 We were on holiday in Glebe Cottage on Colonsay in the Inner Hebrides when I awoke earlier than usual with an unplaceable sense of unease.

 The cold space beside me told me that Shirley was long up and probably already hard at it sorting her latest JOSH SCRAPBOOK or checking the passenger and vehicle numbers disembarking from and boarding the morning ferry, her mind awash with fascinating statistics!

There was a strange silence that I was aware of even though I suffer from roaring tinnitus.

The sound of a flock of sparrows that normally fills my ears had gone.

No breeze rattled the loose guttering.

No sun slanted in through the patio doors.

A grey pallor limped through the cottage and hung like a dead donkey draped over my workbench.

I attended to my toilet ( Emily Bronte is a big influence in my life!    NOT ) and quickly breakfasted on a concoction of home-made muesli, bran flakes and syrup of figs, washed down with a life-enhancing glass of yesterday's cabbage water.

Picking up the mobile phone and with a pad and pencil and a request to check and note down the tide timetable for the coming ten days which was always displayed in the ferry office, walk the mile up to the hotel to check and note down the weather forecast, also for the next ten days for the entire United Kingdom and phone my daughter Gemma to see what would be wrong with her today and if there was to check the ferry times so we could cut our holiday short and rush back, I set out on the usually pleasant quarter mile stroll to a point just in line with the Doctor's surgery where the phone started to pick up a signal.

The air was utterly still and a cold mist enveloped me. Not even the tiniest wavelet lapped onto the shore. I shuddered as something flew unseen past my head and my stomach cramped.

"Get a hold of yourself!" I shouted out, slapping my face hard enough to bring a tear to my eyes and then an apology to myself! Thankfully there was nobody else about to witness this strange man behaving quite oddly!. No one to have to avert my gaze from. No one to think, " We've got a right one here!"

Sure as eggs is eggs the "message" tone beeped and I knew I was right, there was a message from Gemma,"Dad! Urgent! Please phone me as soon as possible! I need to talk!"

I could see that the signal strength was low but phoned anyway.

"Gemma! Dad ! What's up?"

"Dad!"... sob... " You know I had extensions done on my eyelashes last week?"... sob... sob... " Well the left hand side is no longer as curly as the right and I need to make an emergency appointment at the salon and I wondered if you could cut your holiday short and come home and have the kids tomorrow  afternoon cos Derek's at an auction?"... heart-rendering sobs!

SOMEONE NEEDS TO TELL HER THAT SHE DOES NOT NEED EYELASH EXTENSIONS !

" Of course darling!" I replied soothingly. "I'm on my way to check the times right now and I'll call you back shortly."

I still carried out my remaining chores which only took an hour or so and wearily retraced my steps, trying to ignore a sheep which stood stock still glaring at me with it's goat-like eye! Come to think of it a sheep probably glares with a sheep-like eye.

 There was still something distinctly odd about the day!

I  walked past the freshly-appeared police blue and white scene-of-crime tape and thought, "Colonsay? Crime? I think I'm going mad and rushed home!

I NEVER GOT TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS MYSTERY !

I told Shirley the problem with Gemma and she said, "Oh! Poor pet! Did you check the ferry times? I'll go and start packing."

I went and played a final round of golf, on my own as usual, which in reality makes for a really boring thing to do and played so badly that I only managed a "one over par", which is terrible for me because I allow myself to play with up to twenty balls per shot, eventually choosing the best one as the scoring shot and not bothering to putt at all once I'm on the green, taking it as a forgone conclusion that I would get the ball in on my first attempt no matter the distance or the amount of sheep,rabbit and cow poo that lay between it and the hole!

COLONSAY'S ANCIENT GOLF COURSE IS WILD, RUGGED AND TESTING

NOW THAT'S HOW TO PLAY GOLF!

Despite having hit three hundred and seventy three balls I was chilled to the bone and went home to light a roaring fire in the largest multi-fuel burner in existence. Once you can get it to light!

The cottage's visitor book is awash with frustrated tales of failed lighting attempts.

It's really easy...empty three whole packets of fire-lighters onto the grate, cover them with an entire pack of kindling, smother the kindling with a full scuttle of coal, douse the entire thing with a gallon of petrol, stand slightly back and strike a match. If you find yourself still alive then the fire should take.

Like I said, simple. What's wrong with people these days?

With the fire roaring and the central-heating system which feeds from it hissing with fury it was just about time for an early night.

Shirley said that she thought that lighting such a large fire at ten at night might make her feel slightly warm during the hours of darkness.

She opened the bedroom window wide. That was a big mistake!

 I replied, "Hush now! You'll be fine" and she said, "You're probably right as you know me better than I know myself. You are so dependable. Nighty-night! Don't let the bed-bugs bite!"...........Zzzzzz

It was pitch black when her elbow thumped me in the solar plexus.

"David!" she growled in terror." There's something in the room!"

"Shush pet" I said soothingly, it'll just be the breeze getting up and rustling the curtains, now go back to sleep!"

I went back.

"David! Wake up!.There IS something in the room!"

Oh Gosh! I said cheerily, I'll take a peep.

Getting out of bed I was stunned by the overwhelming heat pouring off the radiators! I could hardly breathe and Shirley said that she felt a little warm too!

And THEN I knew what the day's weird feeling had been all about! I knew things weren't right. I'm not superstitious but I have "feelings" and here was the proof!

There, right there on the curtain and looking as terrifying as It's possible to look was..............................

A fig roll sized baby bat actually looking as terrified as it is possible for a baby bat to look!

I said "Shirley! Get under the quilt and stay there until I give you the all clear!"

"What is it?" she wailed.

"It's a very large Vampire bat and I'm going to get it out through the patio doors in the lounge"

" Oh my God! Be careful darling and remember you're naked and Vampire bats carry rabies!"

I bloomin found out I was naked alright when a part of my anatomy encountered the bedroom door handle, which like most door handles is set at a perfect height to inflict crippling pain to naked men intent on chasing bats in the middle of the night!

I approached the wee mite as slowly as possible, holding my breath and extending my hand to gently enfold it but it had gone, silently as if it had been a figment of my imagination.

And then, there it was flying and looping from corner to corner letting out tiny, high-pitched pleas for help. "Squeak!....Help me!...Squeeeeak!"

 I shushed it and whispered " Hush now, I'm only trying to help!"

I don't think it understood human speech as it's looping became more frantic.

Well tiny it may have been but the hairs on the back of my head were, by now, fully erect . I said the hairs on the back of my head! Really ,some people!

Then it was gone, as silent as...as silent as...a bat I suppose.

It was now in the lounge and from it's speed I thoght it was probably on the verge of hysteria as I reached to open the patio door which had a three way opening choice which on the verge of my own hysteria I couldn't remember.

Me, fumbling uselessly...The bat, looping and looping,endlessly looping and then looping again!

By now I was retching with fear and I heard Shirley's muffled shout, herself also on the point of hysteria, " What's that noise?"

" Just"..retch.."getting the door open"..retch.."darling"..retch.."won't"..retch.."be".."be"..retch, retch.."a"..retch,retch,retch and retch again.."mo!"..two minutes of retching!

Finally I flung it open and the night terror fled with what I can only interpret as a mocking, piercing final scream!

I could see Shirley's humped outline by the red light of the central-heating circulation warning switch, shaking with terror but fancying a quick cup of coffee and a Garibaldi biscuit, I warned her to stay where she was for ten more minutes!

Eventually, with the lights now on I went to get back into bed where catching sight of my injury Shirley nearly fainted and swooning said," I think you've been bitten but only by a single fang as I can only see one entry wound ( Editors comment.....How can one man be so funny? ) though as  bat venom, like snake venom is highly toxic it has to be removed and as there is no doctor immediately present I will have to administer the only treatment that will give you any chance of survival. Come here my naked hero!"

I was just about to tell her that I had only banged it when I thought..........There's a time when a man should just  keep quiet!

And now we travel nowhere without a full set of anti-bat net curtains, blu-tak, parcel tape and tacks, tack hammer and drawing pins, meths to remove all traces of the parcel tape if we use it, hole filler and a selection of touch-up paints and brushes!

Thanks to Shirley's ministrations I never developed rabies ! Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk !







 

Sally-Part 28. LATER THE SAME DAY

I took this photo at low tide yesterday afternoon the 14th of March 2012

We live right on the east coast only a few miles north of the mouth of the River Tyne and just north of the famous St. Mary's Lighthouse which is joined to the land by a causeway.

Now yesterday was extremely warm and we decided to go to the lighthouse for a walk and as there wasn't a Travelodge on the route Shirley made lunch and a sandwich to take with us before we had a quick snooze to get our energy up for the seven minute drive and our attempt to make the entire journey in one go.

It was glorious and the whole experience only marred by one thing..

The mysterious loss of Shirley's scarf which you'll be pleased to know turned up under the picnic table where she dropped it but wasn't there when we first looked for it before retracing our route over the miles of exposed rocks , with me searching every bloomin crevice hoping that if I found it there would be kind words and forgiveness over the torn crumpet packet!

Sally-Part 27. "DAVID!" WHAT'S HAPPENED TO THE CRUMPET PACKET?"

I knew today was going to start with at least a little tension in the air and so it did as an uncomfortable silence menaced my breakfast.

It all began last evening when Shirley decided to shop online at Asda and not to go to Cramlington's Morrisons to shop, which would have taken about an hour, unless you take into account the three journeys that I would have made back to "Customer Services", ( after Shirleys barked demand to me, "Receipt!" once I've paid, for she carries no money and before I've sat in the car because her eagle eyes have spotted discrepancies ) and  under Shirley's instructions, via various displays, checking the shelf price against the receipt price, to claim as much as three pee back on each overcharged item, doubling the time taken to do the original shop.

The first time I return the nice lady behind the desk tries not to look too bored with my enquiry and speaks to me in a reasonably civilised way but by the third time I dread going back in as her tone has rapidly sunk into contempt and her look to ridicule!

But I am a determined man and I will not be deterred in my quest!

I can only tell you that I have done that on many occasions, leaving Shirley bristling with righteous indignation and sat in a car that rapidly becomes too hot for her as the temperature soars past freezing point ( She suffers terribly from heat because of post meno-whatsit ladies problems! Kuh! You girls should be thankful that you don't get Manflu 'cos then you'd know what "ILL" really is! ), thereby adding to her general dissatisfaction with shopping and me.

So she settled down to a four hour selection process but not without asking me whether there was anything that I would especially like.

 "Right! I'm sick of this already! What do you want? Hurry up! I'm not spending all night doing this and waiting for you to make up your snail-paced mind!  I haven't read Josh's latest tweet for minutes!"

Well my favourite food at the moment is peanut butter on Marmite sandwiches so that is what I asked for.

" God! How disgusting!" she replied kindly, acknowledging my request.

"Right!, I want you in bed by ten as the delivery'll be here between 8am and midday so I wont be able to sleep a wink wondering where I'm going to put it all and I'll have to get you up at dawn to be ready for the van which means tomorrow's a write off for me and I'm going to be exhausted just emptying the bags after you've carried them through probably in the wrong order as usual and no pulling the quilt off me again tonight or you'll have to go into the other bed!"

Did you notice that Shirley didn't take a breath there?

She doesn't when she talks to her friends on the phone for two hours and then complains, " I suppose you noticed, two hours and I didn't get a word in!"

Well, give Asda their due, the van arrived at 8:15 and though a little slow in finding our shopping the man got away in under five minutes and then the fun began.

"David! I didn't order this Pesto sauce and there's no spaghetti!"

The ACTUAL carrier bag or one very similar that the unordered Pesto Sauce arrived in

"Gosh!" I said trying to sound shocked.

"And you haven't brought in the bag of frozen! Where is it?"

Oh dear! there wasn't one! He had gone away with it!

And that meant a telephone complaint to South Africa and I'm not kidding! ( I wonder how long some poorly paid South African telephone enquiries operator can remain sane! )

The poor soul returned, waving the missing spaghetti and frozen food high in triumph.

Exhausted, Shirley collapsed in front of her new wallpaper of Josh Groban ! ( The young American singer who has won her heart ! )

I carefully opened the newly arrived crumpets and daring to turn the toaster up two notches without asking permission first ( Oh God! I think I've forgotten to turn it back down! Hang on a minute I'll just nip in and see!...Phew! that was a close call! ) went to lift the packet to put it in the cupboard when disaster struck and the packaging split in two! I silently kind of rolled the plastic around the remaining crumpets and jammed them in beside the Rice Krispies, ate my food, made a coffee and slunk back into my room.

THE SHOCKING EVIDENCE !

A wife can scent out trouble by the quietness of her husbands movements and that's how, not one minute later and seemingly recovered from her exhaustion my ears were blasted by, " DAVID! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE CRUMPET PACKET?"

My hand temporarily tightened it's grip on my Stanley Knife and then relaxed as I decided, once again,to be non-confrontational.

" MY HAND TEMPORARILY TIGHTENED IT'S GRIP ON MY STANLEY KNIFE"

And you can't ask for a much more fascinating insight into life in the Nash household than that!!!

"DAVID! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THE TOASTER CONTROLS?"

OH! NO!.................. 

Sally-Part 26. BREAKING NEWS HEADLINE! THE MANKINI VOTE RESULT!

I've had to stop the voting prematurely as my laptop was close to exploding with the traffic!

The overwhelming response to whetherGemma should publish a photo of me in a Mankini has resulted in the following numbers...............

Elliot........Yes!

Julian.......No!

Jonathan..No!

Mum.......NO, NO, NO !!!

Gemma...Well I'm going to publish it anyway!

Those who liked my status.....3

Personally I'm in favour but Mum has "ADVISED" me not to!

Ladies of the world...feel relieved! Feel VERY relieved!

I thank you all for your time and effort!

 With this sort of reaction I may well try standing for Parliament!

Sally-Part 25. A FEW PHOTOS

Many readers have been begging for more photos...." Any photos...... PLEASE!"....Lonely, Montreal.

 So just for you "Lonely" and everybody else, here you are......

Protecting Shirley from a bull on Colonsay

With Laurel and Hardy. They asked if THEY could pose with ME!

Who can I insult next?

Shirley the teacher, back left! Well I did say that she was quite small !

Not Shirley and I on the beautiful Alnmouth beach in Northumberland last week, March 2012.

One Lucky Woman!  April 16th 1973

As ugly as ancient Aunt Mary

Shirley just before she struck Sally with the poorly concealed brick

Sally, an all round sports woman,here in her own snooker room

My big stall. 25 ft  and everything made by me. March 2012

An unposed customer howling at my signs

THE MAN HIMSELF AT THE STALL, WELL, A QUARTER OF IT. MARCH2012

Sally- Part 24. WHY DID I THINK I COULD ESCAPE HER IN HARROD'S

Me on my Bean Bag

See this leather "Bean Bag" ? And me as a young man sitting on it?

Well I made it and managed to get a furniture company to let me display it on their stand at the " Earl's Court International Furniture Exhibition " in 1972.

Although I didn't even sell one I then had the bright idea that perhaps I should aim higher and show it to the buyer at Harrods which, as I'm sure you know, is the most prestigious shop in the world.

Well which great philosopher said, " Trying is the first step on the road to failure." ?

Ah! I remember now, it was Homer Simpson!

 The buyer seemed suitably impressed and asked me to guarantee certain manufacturing standards. I left his office with the feeling that a new world was about to open up for me and decided to have a wander around the store..

After quite some time and whilst looking at a beautiful overcoat that I just knew I would one day be able to afford, I was dimly aware of the telephone ringing on the department desk and  the salesman saying. " Long dark hair? A beard ? Very very tight dark red loons ( ridiculously flared cotton trousers ) Black, turtle-neck jumper? I think he is in this department! One moment please and I'll ask the gentleman. "

Well I'd focused right in on the conversation. My heart had started to race as I knew it was the buyer summoning me back to place a massive order!

"Excuse me sir, ( actually he had quite a strong lisp ) so he really said, " Ekth thkuthe me thur. Are you Jonathan Nash? "

Odd, I thought, I'm sure I didn't give them the name that I was born with but the name, David, my middle name that I had been known by all my life after my mother and Auntie Sophie had both chosen Jonathan for their sons who had been born at the same time and then tossed a coin for the right to use exlusively and which toss my mother had lost thereby having to use the middle name forever ( Phew ! ) but, whatever!

" Yes" I said in a rather successful businessman's suave voice, " I am"

" Well it's your mother Sir" I no longer noticed or cared if he was lisping or not!

I grabbed the phone. " What do you want and how the hell did you locate me?"

" Oh darling, the lovely receptionist has been phoning all the departments trying to find you and here you are!"

"WHAT.....DO.....YOU.....WANT?"  I screamed back!  Well that kind of quiet scream that comes out between rigidly clenched teeth.

" Oh Darling I've run out of bread and I wondered whether you could pick up a loaf on the way home. Byee!"

I don't often collapse with uncontrollable tears of utter frustration, pounding the floor with both fists and forehead and toes like a two year old but I did then until some nice men in white coats lifted me and escorted me off the premises talking gently to me the whole way!

Never did get the contract.

And this story is absolutely true!

Sally-Part 23. SHOCK HORROR ! MAN WRITES ON WOMAN'S WALL !

I could see that something was bothering Gemma. She had only spent fifty nine of the previous sixty minutes texting ! She seemed distracted as I played with her children for four solid hours for the twentieth time this week ! OK ! OK ! They are my grandchildren and I love them more than life itself ! And doesn't Gemma just know it !

 I'm sorry, I'm sorry ! Didn't mean anything by that !

And then the bombshell exploded under me and my confidence drained away !

" Dad ! You've written on a woman's wall and that's just not on ! You have overstepped the boundaries of decency and I'm telling you that you have embarrassed me, embarrassed my friend and you have humiliated mum and you have let yourself down very badly ! I am ashamed to call you my father ! "

" WHAT ? WHAT ? " I sputtered ! What is " Writing on a wall ? " What does that mean ? "Writing on a wall ? Writing on a wall ? " What is a " Wall " ? And where did I write on it ? And what did I write and who is she and how have I crossed what boundary of decency ? "

WELL ! this is what I did !

When I started writing my blog and to reach as wide an audience as possible and being absolutely new to computers, typing and in fact any kind of electronic, that is modern, technology I found myself on my " Friends " page.

 I found that I had no friends !

 And so I clicked onto my children and found that they had lots of friends who had lots and lots of friends and I started clicking on " Friend request " and unbelievably all but three of the seventy eight accepted me immediately!

Three answered "Who are you ? " and I told them.

And then because one of my new friends was a mother who I recognised from the playground.....and that's a playground, as in school and not somewhere electronic, if there is somewhere electronic called a playground which I suppose would be a place that naughty people would visit to see very naughty things like ladies ankles and stuff........ I innocently wrote a note telling her what I was doing, not what I was doing at that moment ( ! )  and asked her to link my blog on to any of her friends whom she thought might enjoy it.

I "sent" it and apparently when I "send" things everyone sees them and that is what has led to me being in such deep doody!

To defend myself I said, " Gemma ! It's not as if I was some kind of strange man who went to the circus or the pantomine on his own! "

And she said " But that's exactly what you do! "

" Ah! Yes! " I replied, " I do don't I ? "

"And it's not as if I'm the sort of man who delivered a howlingly funny one hour and seven minute speech at his daughter's ( first ) wedding!
 Oh! I did didn't I?"

" But! But! It's not as if I am the sort of man who disappears upstairs at a New Year's Eve party and comes down wearing a Mankini, am I?"
 Oh! I am aren't I ? Oh dear and I did it  infront of those very nice staid ladies didn't I?"

And the photo of me in my Mankini is precisely what Gemma was showing fifteen women when I picked her up drunk and eating a stolen CADBURY'S CREME EGG ( note THAT Weightwatchers and Mr. Atkins! ) from an "ANN SUMMER'S" party last Friday !

So, if I do anything wrong or overstep something that I don't know that I'm overstepping, I apologise in advance and beg everybody's forgiveness, for I know not what I do !

Now I MUST get on with my next blog !

Sally-Part 22. POOR ME !

About 1990. Trying to look intelligent whilst wearing a child's rucksack

I once asked Shirley why she thought people took an instant dislike to me and without even thinking she said, "Because it saves time !" and then slapping me really hard across my back she let out a howl of derision and crying with laughter repeated it, cackling demonically between each word,

"Because!....howl....It!....hoot....Saves !....choke....Time !!!! D'yer get it? D'yer?"

 Oh! Ha ! Ha ! Ha !

I'd just had the most terrible time buying milk from Charlie's farm  on the Hebridean Island of Colonsay, where I felt that I'd been treated with contempt.

I've never told anyone about this before. I was going to take it to my grave, such is the pain the recollection brings me, especially if I'm away driving and the memory of what happened then suddenly flashes into my mind and I blush with horror, thump the steering wheel and groan, "Oh God!"

 Have any of my readers ever said or done anything stupid? I doubt it.

OK! I'll tell.

Colonsay is the only Island in The Hebrides with an arrow pointing at it visible from space

Colonsay is nine by two miles with a hundred or so residents which can swell by five hundred more per week during the holidays. It has one circular single-track road made Hell by idiot cyclists who won't  pull over and stop to let vehicles through as instructed at the harbour on a tiny signboard that nobody can read. So the Islanders get pretty fed up with tourists who are known as "The Green Wellie Brigade" for the way they dress and because they are so wealthy that they readily pay the ridiculously high rents demanded of them!

Kiloran Bay

Our little and frankly grotty "School Cottage" was about half a mile from the farm and when Shirley asked if I wouldn't mind going for a couple of bottles I grabbed my bike, pushed it over the cattle grid, jumped on and shot off.

School Cottage with almost vertical ladders up to the bedrooms

Of course what she actually said was, " David! Milk! Now! Two pints and no cream! No butter! Right? Well, what are you waiting for? Do I have to go myself? Move!"

As I approached the track leading quite steeply up to the outbuildings, I could clearly see their six year old son herding a dozen or so, to me, massive creatures across the road from their grazing field, goading them up the very deeply rutted track up to their elbows in thickly cloying mud. Some had their calves with them and some were heavily pregnant, due to give birth any time soon.

Being young and English and a twit I said, "Good morning young fellow, would you like a hand?"

Although, being English I refuse to speak in any foreign tongue, I believe he answered, " Noo, S'arrrlreet pal" which is Scottish for "No thankyou kindly Sir" I think.

Anyway the final huge beast laden with the biggest,heaviest udders I'd ever seen was struggling so badly that I put one arm around her vast behind and with the other took the weight off her norks and pushed as hard as I could.

The boy stared at me as if I was an idiot and called his mother. "Murrm! Arr think yeed bitterr harrve a luke hearrr arrt this nutterrr!"

The good lady appeared at the top of the hill and standing with her arms crossed and her legs akimbo stared at me for two seconds before calling,"Charrlie! Weeuns! Git yerrselvs hearr the noo ya'll nivverr beleev thissun!"

 I wasn't even daunted by the poo as it was released at huge force hitting me smack in the middle of my forehead! Gallons of it! Kind of sweet smelling really! Not unpleasant at all!

 I just held on grimly and heaved, supporting and pushing until, covered in muck and grime we arrived at the top and straightening my back and using the backs of my fingers as miniature windscreen wipers to clear my glasses said, "Fine morning to you all. I just had to help her. She looked whacked what with the birth evidently so near! When is she due?"

They looked at each other, burst into a dreadful mad laughter, grabbed hold of each other to stop themselves falling over and the wife roared, " Tharrts the Bull yee Sassenach fool!"

"Ah! I said " Easy mistake to make I suppose. Now I'll take two pints of your best please, my good woman and I'll be on my way. Cheerio!"

Now, was it my imagination or did that bull have a smirk on his face? And when I took my leave and walked passed him with as much dignity as possible, did he wink at me, slightly purse his lips and slowly raise one eyebrow?

I think the tears started just after I got back on my bike and with my vision clouded, I forgot to dismount for the cattle grid !

Shirley stared at me when I walked in covered from head to toe, crying with humiliation and the pain that only a man can suffer when he's fogotten to stand up on his pedals when riding a bike over a cattle grid and said kindly, "What on earth's happened to you darling?"  ( Yeh Right! )

"Fell off." I said quietly.

Sally- Part 21. COOEE! DID I SHOW YOU THIS PICTURE?

" Now let me think, which tooth was it?" Shirley's look says it all ! Only five minutes after casting off !

My children looked forward to Grandma Sylvia's visits which, though meant to last three or four days, generally went on for a month, because she never carried less than thirty bars of chocolate, mostly old and well sucked but nevertheless torn straight out of her bag without so much as a "Hello Grandma".

Meeting her at Newcastle train station was an experience which needs no exaggeration. Whilst Shirley stayed at home crying and gibbering and staring into space not daring to think of what she would have to listen to again, for there was no tale from the past that Sally wouldn't repeat, even if you told her that you had already heard it several times, I would stand on the bridge connecting the platforms watching her train arrive.

There was no need to hunt up and down the carriages looking for her, I only needed to keep my eyes on the one where the doors burst open before the train had stopped and about a hundred people jumped out and started running for their lives with a look of the last moments of madness in their eyes and jaws dropped in an ugly mute silence!

Looking through the window I would see my mother with a fixed smile on her face, which she always reserved for the lower classes, gathering up a mountain of sepia photographs and shovelling them into one of three handbags and calling to the backs of the departing masses, "Cooee! Darling! Now did I show you this one of my Great Aunt Rachel who died in 1896 from pernicious anaemia?"

I once met her at Norwich coach station to take her to join the family on a holiday on the Norfolk Broads, where we rented a house and motor boat.

A similar scene awaited though obviously, being smaller, the coach had less people jumping out of it. This time as she stepped down with that same smile, she saw me over the heads of the scattering throng and called out,"Cooee! David! I've got a lovely gentleman here dying to meet you!"

Disappearing around a corner staring back with the look of an escaping prisoner of war, was an elderly man talking rapidly to himself.

I heard "Never! Never again! Never!

Poor devil!

He stopped fleetingly and with a wild look in his eyes he caught a glimpse of his tormenter and cried out, " All the way from London! All the bleedin way!"

Mum, oblivious as ever, called out to me, "Quick, see if he wants a lift!" and when I said it was too late, she said, genuinely disappointed, "Oh bother! I was just about to tell him the story about the day that Uncle Reggie broke a tooth in his comb!"

I couldn't bear to think of the state of Shirley's mind by the end of the coming week!

Look at the photo and pity my wife!

About one minute after taking it  I turned and shouted, " Mum for goodness sake shut up!" ( but a lot ruder! ) and she turned to Shirley and said conspiratorially, "He's only jealous darling! Ignore him! Now where was I? Ah! Yes, Ernie was also a hairdresser, well barber really who had trouble with the teeth in his combs.........blah blah blah bloody blah dee blah dee dribble !!!!!!!"

I rest my case.

Sally-Part 20. POOR SHIRLEY!

GEMMA'S BRILLIANT PAINTING FROM 1987 .

Lots of you have been writing begging me to tell you a little about my long-suffering wife.

Well, hang on a bit, it's not as if she was the first woman I had ever met who had agreed to go out with me!

 Actually.... she was !

I had TALKED to other women, like my father's receptionist who stank of sweat and old sex: I know that now, though I didn't then.

There was a cleaner who was always good for two bob when I drove her home.

There were my two Grandmas who were also good for two bob and a box, not a tube, of Smarties.

And there was an aunt who started to go hysterical when she spotted a dead fly inside her stockings and started to tear them off in terror out in the "cloisters", screaming for my uncle who I think was as revolted by the sight as I was!

Ancient, undernourished and wrinkled legs aren't something a young boy should see being rapidly released from tight stockings , though to tell you the truth, I don't know why I was there watching!

Oh! Yes! I nearly forgot! The German Au Pair girls! Lots of them, the poor things, paid in pocket money to look after five, only four of us were interested in girls! nod nod, wink wink!, leaking pubescent boys who crashed into each other during the wee small hours on the way to knock gently on the girl's door, seeking they knew not what whilst trying to avoid the creaking floorboards !

 Stand on one and my mother would call out, regardless of the time, " Get back to bed you dirty buggers!"

So you see I wasn't without some worldliness!

Those older women and quite a few more were part of what I now recall as "The Great Drivellers" ; able to drone on with my mother for hour after hour about absolutely nothing of any consequence to man or boy, rather like today's women planning their weddings!

I know I'm dead!

NOW THAT'S WHAT I CALL BEAUTIFUL !

One day, aged twenty two and having recently finished a job making made-to-measure suede hot-pants in Brighton and that's true, I was living back at my parent's house in London when I walked into the kitchen and there, sitting at the table was the most beautiful, angelic-faced and fragile-looking twenty one year old woman that I had ever seen!

When I was introduced my head was in such a spin that I didn't notice that she wasn't actually sitting but standing. It didn't matter; I was entranced.

It didn't occur to me that one of my brothers might have brought her home! Not that that minor fact could have cooled my canine instincts.

"Hello gorgeous!" she said, I mean I said. " How about you and I getting married?. I'm skint and have no job or prospects !"

A VERY LUCKY LADY !

Shirley jumped at the chance and we were married within a week and have lived happily ever after.

BECAUSE I AM TECHNOLOGICALLY INCOMPETENT IT NOW APPEARS THAT WE CUT THE CAKE.......

..........BEFORE WE GOT MARRIED !

Luckily for me I married one of the wisest women ever born. From one minute after the wedding ceremony she was able to start offering me advice on every single aspect of life, bar none. She has helped me form opinions. She has guided me through decision making and has always been willing to point out any tiny failings which I might show from time to time.

Shirley was a primary school teacher in Walthamstow and most of her seven year olds were taller than her!
 

SHIRLEY IS ACTUALLY IN THE PICTURE ( BACK LEFT ) EVEN IF MOST OF THE SEVEN YEAR OLDS LOOK BIGGER THAN HER

Fortunately she loves me and the way I dress, eat, sneeze ( always in threes and very loudly and for some reason as I approach or am driving round roundabouts! ((No I've never heard of it before either!)) ((( Another psychiatrist writes.......)))  ), whistle, hum, sing, play the guitar, drive, feel ill, talk very loudly about myself to anyone stupid enough to say hello, without stopping for breath until they selfishly drop dead from boredom, snore her awake at night, though she snores for England herself, dawdle behind her on walks, read very slowly when sharing some ceefax thing so that she has to wait for me to catch up, Oh and many other things that would probably make other wives a little impatient!

In return, I adore everything about her except one thing and that is she can get a wee bit shirty about my choice of lunch. I'll give you an example. I work at home and one day she said lovingly,

 " I suppose you're hungry!Well what do you want for lunch? God I'm sick of having to feed you!"

 But that's just her little joke!

"Well what is there sweetheart?"

"I don't bloody know! You were in the Supermarket when we were doing the shopping weren't you? Staring at women and yawning I suppose, as usual, leaving it all to me!"

Ah! We do make each other laugh!

"I'll have Cod In Batter please"

"And chips?"

" Yes please!"

"And peas?"

"Yes please!"

"Or I could do you Mackerel on toast?"

"No thanks, the Cod'll do fine"

"Or you could have chicken nuggets, chips and broccoli."

"No honestly, the Cod really will be fine."

"Or I could do you....."

"I said the Cod woman, the Cod, for God's sake, give me strength!"

"Right, if you're going to argue about it you can cook it yourself!" And she stormed out!

What had I done? What had I done?

Oh! We do make each other laugh!