Wednesday I feel, is the mid way point of the week. I know it’s not really, but it is, so there.
Wednesday was like any normal Wednesday for me. Tuesday night I had the weirdest nights sleep. A good sleep, but I woke up feeling like someone had punched me in the guts and then stuck a red hot poker in my head. What had I been up to in the night!? Your guess, will undoubtedly be better then mine.
Everyone shipped off to either work or school (with Magoo reminding me we needed to sort thebeanspoonerswifes valentine day cards out when he gets home), leaving Bruce, Hobbes and I in the house to enjoy our day.
I realised after getting myself up, showered, dressed and teeth brushed, that I had absolutely bugger all to do today.
Well, apart from wander around to the local shop and get some cash out. Rock n Roll!
So I wandered around to our village shop. It’s the typical sort. It sells newspapers, tobacco, a few select bottles of wine and a few bits and bobs to get you through the day. And a small counter post office. Imagine all that crammed into your average size living room, yeah, that’s the size of it. We are a small village and it’s a small shop. They don’t sell everything but they sell enough random necessities that you can make it a good few days without going near a supermarket, or larger shop.
So cash out and bin liners bought (I have some dreaded gardening and clearing up to do either on Thursday or Friday), I wandered home. It’s literally a 5 minute walk, with a stunning view.
On arrival home, Bruce goes crazy, like I’ve been gone on a week long expedition and he’s been left to fend for himself. He’s very loyal. We settle into our afternoon and I’m honestly struggling to stay awake. Bruce is wrapped around me on the sofa, and the cat is upstairs somewhere asleep. I know he’s not being sick again as I can’t hear him fucking puking or grasping for air!
Thebeanspoonerswife has been out on a job all day (she’s a scientist) and has repeatedly called or txt me to say what an evil, vile dirty shithole she and her workmate are visiting! But she points out she’s been to worse! Jesus. She’s sent me a few pics of the job….worse….it’s likes like the inside of a ducks bottom….how can you have seen worse!
She calls me on her way home, and tells me she’s swinging by to collect me before getting Magoo as we need to pop to, you’ve guessed it, the supermarket, to get her dad a birthday present.
Magoo collected without incident at school, into the car and off we go.
The NONE STOP talking.
Is it a skill anyone else’s kid possesses!? You know, the skill to cram an entire days description into 30 seconds of none stop talking, without pausing or taking in any air!? Or is it just Magoo!? Surely not!
So with his day described as quickly as possible, he’s whittering on about this and that. He’s asking what we need to get Grandad for his birthday!?
Now my father in law is 74. 74. He doesn’t really need anything as he’s got everything he’s ever needed and then some.
We normally do the usual, cards, some chocs, a shirt or a pair of trousers. He’s not really a fun grandad, as he’s a little older and a little less fun then the other grandad. But none the less, a good grandad and that’s what counts.
We go our separate ways in the super market.
While cleaning out and tidying the wardrobe the other day I found a pair of jeans I had bought, not my usual kind, and never worn. They still had the tags on, so thebeanspoonerswife decided she was going to take them back and get a refund. I think I’ve had them for well over 6 months, bought on a whim, but once home, I think I decided no! Stashed them in the wardrobe and forgot about.
She got her refund!
We, on the other hand had gone on the hunt for grandads birthday cards! Magoo wanted to get him one with a number on, but I pointed out, 74 isn’t really a special birthday, and at 74, most people don’t need reminding of their age (some do I suppose).
So, two horrendous (we have really odd taste and senses of humour), but nice cards found. Thebeanspoonerswife had found him a smelly kit, you know, the usual, bath stuff with some man grooming kit, and also some of his favourite biscuits. Nothing major, as we also need to post it!
As we all pile in the door, we start to write out our cards ready for posting the next day. Magoo has pretty good handwriting for a 7 year old. I remember at that age my handwriting looked like a left handed blind monkey had done it, so his looks fucking professional compared to that. He obviously takes after his mother in that department.
Then came the secretive valentine’s day gifts. Magoo had out done himself this year. He had made his mother a very sweet, cute and tasteful (for once) card at after school activities club!
He hand wrote the inside of the cute one he had bought her a few days ago, along with one from the animals. It’s sort of a tradition that’s we’ve always done. Each of us always gets a card from the animals….odd I know, but it’s our tradition, not yours, on every occasion that requires a card.
So that sorted and the few presents we had gotten thebeanspoonerswife hidden back away safely, we settled in for dinner.
Dinner sorted, and it was getting late. Well, later then I had realised.
Magoo vanished and got changed for bed and decided to watch a little TV on his bed upstairs.
We watched a bit of TV.
As we’d finished watching Luther, which I’ve said previously was fucking hard to watch (as in shocking and disturbing), we started to watch the Handmaid’s Tale. Have you seen it ….!?
I’ve already watched the first series, but thebeanspoonerswife hasn’t. Series 3 is out soon, so we look like we are making up lost time, me rewatching series 1, thebeanspoonerswife for the first time, then series 2. It’s a harsh look at reality. I’d read the book and seen the film, years ago. But this. It’s close to what could happen in future years, if we as a society are not careful. It’s not a feel good programme, but it keeps you on the edge of your seat, catching your breath, and sometimes crying.
With that, we watch one episode and get everyone off to bed.
Tomorrow is valentines day!