Thursday, 5 September 2013

Is there a cosmic law I missed?

After almost thirty years of marriage, I've finally come to realise, or more accurately been forced to accept that she who must be obeyed is always right, even when she's wrong. It took a while but that canker has begun to soften - yeah right.

   That aside, is there some law, engraved in stone which decrees that whenever my spawn decides to dress; the first, second and usually third thing she tries on are always the worst nightmares ever designed and why did we manhandle her into the most expensive clothes shop in Christendom just to force her to accept this revolting dross!

   But the law obviously ingrained into her genes is the one requiring her to file them over every horizontal surface of the entire house. And even when it would be safer to explore previously uncharted stretches of the Amazon than venture into the quagmire that is her bedroom, or indeed the rest of the house when she's around; should I have the unmitigated gall to complain, my beloved wife rushes to her assistance (usually from beneath a head high pile of underwear) to say "Leave her alone. You're always...blah blah...etc etc.

    However, today she added a new ingredient to the mix.

   "Daddy"  - notice the two letters appended to my paternal title? That slight tonal inflection usually precedes an admission of guilt or a request.

   "I know you don't really hate me." Her face simply oozed childlike sincerity.

   "Of course not darling. You're my life."

   "Well in that case,"

    I gritted my teeth.

   "When are you going to buy me a new Mini? They're only twenty five thousand pounds."

    Now I don't know about the rest of you but I always keep that much cash just lying around in my sock draw.


  1. Oh, if only I had 25k lying around somewhere. I can tell you it wouldn't go toward a new car.

    Well, maybe it would, but for me, not my offspring. :)

  2. If I had 25 grand it might go towards a new offspring.

  3. Oh come on! You know she’s worth it!

  4. You're absolutely right. Forget the Mini - I'm going to buy her a Maserati.

  5. She certainly knows how to get you to do things for her. At least a mini would fit under your Christmas tree. Personally, my husband has one, but I'd never buy one. Definitely not my favorite car, although the rest of the world loves them.
    It's only one small request, Roger. Surely you could honor it. She might have asked for another horse or cat, or worse, a bucketload of ferrets.