Do you know what Blog? I reckon all this snow has done something to the psyche of the females of the species .. well at least one female of the species.
Question:- What would most other blokes do after a hard long trudge over the deep and crisp snowy wastes of Northish Warwickshire? Answer:- Of course, they would shower, change and collapse into a comfortable armchair in front of the television set to watch an afternoon of gee gees racing while a steaming mug of coffee and a pleasant lunch was prepared by their wives and served up on a tray in front of a blazing fire …. as is the custom in our society. Simple. Obvious. It’s always been like that since Eve sliced the apple up and made custard for the crumble. Adam didn’t complain that it was quite tart. And did my wife follow the custom as laid down in the Good Book? Did she nelly. Did I flop into a chair after my challenging trudge, I ask you Blog? Oh no. It was on with the overalls, lace up the snow shoes, on with the mittens, adjust the deer stalker, straighten the jock strap and out into the garden. No rest for me after my trudge. Too conscientious, that’s my trouble.
Working away, concentrating is difficult without her wittering away nonstop. I lost it, I’ll tell you. The snow was deep and the job was hard enough as the snow was the wet stuff type that stuck together like glue. I had finished the head and body of my snow man and was into the finer details of his anatomy. She kept shouting from the doorway … have I done this, have I done that, have I done the other? A man can only take so much Blog. She could see I was busy but it made no difference at all. She went on about all the fiddly little jobs that needed doing around the house; when would I fit the new shower cubicle? When would I replace the flashing on the chimney stack? Wasn’t it about time I ordered some glass for the front room picture window which had been broken in the July storms? And so on and so forth. As I said, I had just got to the delicate bit of the snowman’s anatomy when I lost it. Or rather I broke it. It just snapped off. Being thin and pointy, it is often the hardest part of the construction. As she had caused me to make the mistake, I thought it only right that she helped make amends for putting me off my stride. So I asked her if I could borrow her pipe to replace the snowman’s which I had just broken. Stone me. I only asked to borrow her pipe. I didn’t want her best pipe after all, the one I bought for her 60th birthday would do. And it would be returned after the thaw. She went nutterkins. Borrow her pipe indeed. I am not joking Blog, anyone would have thought that I wanted to borrow her washing up liquid or something. I told her that the yoicks from the village would appreciate her contribution to my artistic efforts when they popped up to the estate for a viewing. But she wouldn’t have it. In the end, I borrowed a tin of her rolling tobacco without telling her. A wise move on my part don’t you think Blog? And I do think that her blonde wig looks rather cute on the snow pig.
Colin
P.S. The acronym S.C.C.C.A. doesn’t stand for the Southern Counties Cross Country Association but stands for Softies Can’t Cope, Can’t be Arsed. The ‘Southern’ have cancelled their Championship … Health and Safety’. Stone me Blog, first the Universities Championships were cancelled last year and the students showed a couple of fingers at their masters in charge and got stuck in themselves and made their own arrangements … then the Midland cancel and then the National Road Relay cop out only for the ordinary club members (aka Notts A.C.) at grass roots level to show a couple of fingers to our masters in charge and got stuck in and made their own arrangements. I suppose the Southern clubs will show the same deference. What is happening to the LEGACY??? What a joke???
I shall of course be attending the gathering of the Midland Cross country runners if I can get through the snow drifts!!!
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