Danger alert

When we met He was wearing a shirt of epically bright proportions. Lurid is probably a better description if one is honest. Not Hawaiian shirt bright, but damn close. Well He was a drama student so at the time one just put it down to a certain flamboyance of nature and didn't think more on it. He grew out of the shirt so it wasn't like one was going to be confronted with it again...

Sighs yeah that just shows how wrong you can be... but we will get back to that.

So we have been on the great shirt hunt for a while now. Not sure how things are in your parts of the world, but here the check has reigned supreme. There are small checks, large checks, plaids, mono-plaids, picnic cloth plaids and the list goes on. All of the prints involve a square of colour against a contrasting square of colour. He hates all checks with a passion. So when He gave a coo of delight at spotting a shirt one was more relieved than concerned. That was until one saw the object of His lust.

It was a bright purple paisley print with contrasting purple trim. You look at it and your eyes start to do strange kaleidoscopic things in time to the pulse of the print. Now in any normal relationship when your partner aims at these sorts of things you can gently, but firmly, lead them away from the object of their affection. Or in the case of our vanillas the object will mysteriously disappear, die of simply be put in the bin at the first opportunity. She has a unique way of dealing with the distasteful.

In this type of relationship that isn't an option. Well not if you want to live with your things... personage intact included. All you can do is voice an opinion and get used to your eyes going slightly insane as they try to follow the print... or not. Honestly one found it was easier to focus on His eyes over dinner and just not let them drop... ever!

But that isn't what this is about...

No gentle reader this is about His family and their squirrel genes.

'Cos we came home and He took the shirt down the hall to have his mother give it a quick press, after all as a keen quilter she has an ironing board set up permanently... unlike us where it has to be dug out of a cupboard and then we have to find the iron. Not big on ironing around here. Anyway the conversation turned to that lurid shirt of our beginning. And guess what?

Yes that's right, she has kept the damn thing and best of all it fits again. As we speak it is being lovingly washed and pressed.

Isn't that fabulous L