The day started with His mother's date loaf. Actually it
didn't come to think of it... that wouldn't have been so bad. No, the day
started with us... one of us who had barely had time to imbibe morning mouse...
on side by side treadmills running at the gym. He joked that we should start
training for the next half marathon, to which one tartly pointed out that we
were not that couple. He coughed and gently pointed out that we were running at
7 am... we were that couple L
It was after that horrible incident, which the mind had
obviously tried to block out, that one found oneself in His mother's kitchen. She
is a good but often forgetful cook, which is why the date loaf didn't have the
walnuts in it... shame as it wasn't as good, but one does digress. It was as
one was slicing off a generous hunk that she casually mentioned that it was His
father's birthday. Looking at her with tell tale crumbs on the whiskers... well
someone had to do quality control... one asked does He know. Well I did tell
him she replied. Sighs she told the wrong person as one did point out to her.
So there we were, forced to go out once more to find some
shirts for His father. It took us deep into dangerous territory... clothes
shops. I just want to nip in here He said... and he was off on the continued
hunt for colour denim. And there one was tottering behind in high heels... the
high heels that had been worn because it was supposed to be a quick trip... not
a marathon run. But He did find what he was after and a very hot jacket, which
he didn't need and wasn't looking for, that was just perfect. You know He has
become something of a clothes whore horse of late... strange how those two
words sound so similar.
When we staggered home, a mere four hours later, one small
slave was confronted with the dilemma of how to squish five new pairs of
jeans...
You know when we met 16 odd years ago He was something of a minimalist
in the clothes department. He owned a few t-shirts, a jacket, two pairs of
black jeans, a pair of Docs and a pair of Converse. He had no interest in
clothes... sighs they were simpler times
... into increasingly diminished space. The whole thing was
traumatic, so on sore and swollen feet one retreated to a safe not very safe
place for a restorative nap to guard the pillows...
2 comments:
Very interesting, Masters wardrobe has expanded greatly over the last year as well now that I think about.
Has he lost weight or just become more interested in clothes?
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