Happy Birthday to Barbara
It's Barbara's birthday today. She's... well, you don't think I'd tell you that now, do you? I'm (trying hard to be) a gentleman. And gentlemen don't talk about that sort of thing.
For her birthday, I bought Barbara a nice expensive present. How kind, you say. Sadly those ineffectual buffoons who run international delivery companies don't know the meaning of punctual and Barbara's nice expensive present is still somewhere between here and Milan. Bugger.
When I realised that it wasn't going to turn up, I ordered her something less expensive but still nice, which should have turned up yesterday. And today. And didn't.
Why not go to a shop and get her something? I hear you ask. Well, we live in West Wales. Shops are something that we only ever see on the telly. They don't really exist here. Unless you want to buy those enormous beige pants that old men wear - the ones that do up just beneath the saggy man-breasts. Or tartan shopping trolleys.
So no presents for Barbara on her birthday. Except a big hug that is.
Oh, and she gets to spend all day in a sales meeting.
But I made my famous chocolate brownies, and this evening we're going to town to see the War of the Worlds and have a curry. Tom Cruise and Chicken Madras - who says I'm not romantic at heart.
For her birthday, I bought Barbara a nice expensive present. How kind, you say. Sadly those ineffectual buffoons who run international delivery companies don't know the meaning of punctual and Barbara's nice expensive present is still somewhere between here and Milan. Bugger.
When I realised that it wasn't going to turn up, I ordered her something less expensive but still nice, which should have turned up yesterday. And today. And didn't.
Why not go to a shop and get her something? I hear you ask. Well, we live in West Wales. Shops are something that we only ever see on the telly. They don't really exist here. Unless you want to buy those enormous beige pants that old men wear - the ones that do up just beneath the saggy man-breasts. Or tartan shopping trolleys.
So no presents for Barbara on her birthday. Except a big hug that is.
Oh, and she gets to spend all day in a sales meeting.
But I made my famous chocolate brownies, and this evening we're going to town to see the War of the Worlds and have a curry. Tom Cruise and Chicken Madras - who says I'm not romantic at heart.
Comments
You can't have a curry, of course. You have to have a chicken madras or a lamb rogan josh or somesuch. When I was at school, oh so many years ago, we used to groan at the thought of being fed 'a curry'. This was invariably some nasty chicken stew into which had been tipped a whole container of curry powder and some raisins. I hate raisins with a passion. They are a wasted opportunity.
Nowadays my palate is more sophisticated and I much prefer Thai food. Sadly Aberystwyth doesn't stretch to such delights, so I have to cook my own.