A new version of the Cossack Dance

I have written before about Robbie's tendency to 'dance' with fury when I irritate him. When he is cross with me and he tries to express his opinion he does this strange thing where he puts his hands on his hips and keeps bending his knees. Then as he warms to his theme he starts flapping his arms and then thrusting one arm forward to emphasise his argument. I sometimes struggle not to laugh because if it was speeded up a bit it really would look like a Cossack dance. I wrote about it way back in 2007 after a particularly frustrating morning with Robbie.

"Now to explain this morning's upset. We got up in good time and Robbie had as long as he needed in the bathroom, so things were going well. Considering they only have fractionally more to wash than women, I can't understand why men need to take so long in the bathroom!

The trouble started when we got to the station, Robbie went to get the parking ticket. I realised that he had brought his rucksack, I attempted to lift it and found that it contained a hundredweight of work documents as well as, diary, ipod, magazines, snacks and all the 'essentials' to deal with any conceivable railway emergency! Samuel has an unhealthy attachment to his rucksack too, he hates to be parted from it, but he has Asperger's Syndrome, Robbie is allegedly normal!

I took his ipod, pager and sweets out of his rucksack and put them in my handbag. When he returned I refused to let him take his rucksack. He would look ridiculous with a suit and a rucksack, I didn't want him to look like a Sherpa! Robbie went mad and had a full scale tantrum in the car park. I won the first round and he thundered off with what I can only describe as a cross between a stomp and a shuffle - if it had been speeded up it would have looked like a Cossack dance!  He was impossible and he continued the argument on the train, I was tempted to tip my hot chocolate over him, but it was too expensive to waste. It took him until almost lunchtime to recover his temper - so much for Valentine's Day!"

Last night I woke at about 3am when Robbie shouted out and then leapt out of bed. I am not at my best at 3am and it took me a while to become fully awake and make sense of what was happening in the bedroom. The first thing that I became aware of was torrent of swear words fired through the darkness like a volley of gunfire. As my eyes got used to the darkness I saw the silhouette of Robbie over by the bedroom door. As well as the copious swearing he appeared to be going through a series of jerky movements. I hadn't been too surprised by the swearing, after all this is a man who frequently talks to his socks and underwear in the middle of the night (he always has to put his clothes for the next day in the dark because he waits until I have gone to bed - and he always wakes me up!). I gradually interpreted the jerky movements, he was bending forwards and sticking one leg out as if he was pushing his heel into the floor, it looked like a robot doing a Cossack dance, but it was cramp and Robbie was in agony!

I felt so useless because nothing that I could say or do would help. He often gets cramp at night, but I think the pain was more severe last night. It is scary to see him in so much pain                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

Watching Paint Dry!

It would be fair to say that Robbie and I could (and often do) argue about absolutely anything. The other day we had a fierce row about Fred Dibnah. Robbie has some very dubious interests but without doubt I find his fascination with Fred Dibnah the most difficult to deal with. Usually the mere mention of his name causes me to run for cover, and if Robbie threatens to watch his series on television I take myself off to do something more exciting like watching paint dry. This week it was so cold (and I had run out of paint!) so even the mention of dead Fred wasn't going to make me give up my seat in front of the fire. With gritted teeth I endured half an hour of excruciating boredom, I turned my back on the television and tried to focus on my computer, but it was impossible to ignore and before long by blood pressure was off the scale. 


If they ever gave a lifetime achievement award for the most inarticulate man on television he would have beaten Bill and Ben by a mile. I didn't understand a word he said in the whole programme. The trail for the programme mentioned that in this episode he would be taking his steam engine to Sheffield. I was interested because it is a place that is very dear to my heart. I lived there for a while, I love the South Yorkshire accent and I thought it would be nice to see footage of Sheffield as I remember it. Sadly the whole episode seemed to consist of old men standing around in what looked like a pub communicating in monosyllabic grunts. Worse still I don't think there was a woman in the entire episode! We would not show old programmes that are racist so why would anyone think it was ok to show something that is so blatantly sexist? I think I will have to start a 'ban Fred' campaign, his dvds should be relegated to 'under the counter sales' in shops that are frequented by men in dirty raincoats with 'unnatural appetites'


The whole Fred argument led on to another heated exchange about the gender of vehicles. It really irritates me that men refer to cars, lorries, locomotives, steam rollers etc as 'she' when it is blatantly obvious that they are male! I have explained before that my car is definitely male because it is unreliable and expensive to maintain. I only know of one man who's car has a male name, my daughter's boyfriend has a car called Bruce. I was very impressed that he had chosen such an apt name, Bruce is very loud, hard to ignore, rather unconventional and prone to the occasional bad day (apologies to anyone called Bruce but that is what the name conjures up for me). Bruce is a red Citroen Saxo with lots of adaptations. It turns out that it was my daughter who named the car not her boyfriend, so maybe it is a case of like mother like daughter!

Choose Your Battles Carefully

My son needed a lift home yesterday evening so we got back to the house together to find Robbie feuding with the cat. Apparently the cat had committed a terrible sin and Robbie was still running through his whole (extensive) range of insults. The cat was less vocal, but he was still winning on points because the looks that he was giving Robbie spoke volumes and it really didn't need to tell us what the cat was thinking at that moment! Both retreated to their respective corners, both still bristling with indignation and we returned to what passes for normality in our house. 


I was busy getting on with some writing and trying not to notice that my son was watching total junk on the television and I was only vaguely aware of what was going on in the room. Suddenly everything seemed to go quite and I became aware that a scantily clad Robbie was creeping across the room as if he was stalking prey. Robbie doesn't do anything quietly and he is not so good at stealth either - even when he thinks I don't know I usually do! It was a comical sight, almost like a scene from a cartoon, Robbie creeping across the room in slow motion stalking the cat. Apparently the cat had spotted Robbie's unattended (and empty) plate on the table and had headed in that direction to take a look. Robbie and the cat met at the table and some complicated footwork followed; as I watched Robbie it looked like a cross between a football tackle and a Cossack dance. The next thing I knew he was holding the cat in the air and telling him that he was a thieving fatherless feline. What the cat said doesn't bear repeating, he may not have any teeth but there is nothing wrong with his claws and Robbie was pushing his luck. He put the cat down and it beat a hasty retreat to the relative sanity of the hall. 

I think Robbie had a lucky escape this time, but that better be the end of it because I have no intention of taking him to casualty and explaining to the doctor that he got injured because he was arguing with the cat in his underwear!

The Art of A Good Argument

The fact that Robbie and I argue will come as no surprise to regular readers of the blog, but the things that we argue about are perhaps a little more surprising. I listened to a discussion on the radio recently about the causes of arguments within relationships and I realised that Robbie and I argue about some very strange things compared to other people. So I decided to come up with a list, and looking back at the blog has revealed lots of evidence too..

The gender of God - Robbie is convinced that God is male, rather formal and definitely C of E, my understanding of God is considerably different. If Robbie gets too pompous about it I tell him that God is female and he loses it completely!   Sunday Morning Musings

The merits or otherwise of Ken Livingstone - This subject crops up when Robbie wants to provoke an argument, he knows exactly which buttons to press to get a reaction and it always works. The mere mention of that odious little man sends my blood pressure sky high and totally ruins my day. Red and Green, Not Fit to Be Seen

The fridge - Robbie is the self appointed ruler of the fridge. It has to be set out his way and he even expects me to buy condiments and such like in the correct size to fit in the spaces that he has designated for them. He is destined to be a very disappointed man because I do as I like!
The Fridge Police  Fitting In  King of the Fridge

Supermarket shopping - Supermarket shopping together is a very dangerous activity because it is very likely to lead to arguments. Robbie likes to push the trolley, to organise the trolley so that the items are stacked in the correct manner (according to him), to dictate the size shape and brand of item purchased and to be in complete control of the order the items are put through the checkout. There have been occasions when we have almost come to blows and on several memorable occasions he has danced with fury!  Survival - Against The Odds!

Trains come first - I shouldn't really complain, Robbie has never made any secret of the fact that he lives, breathes and sleeps trains, but there are occasions when it would be really nice if he could put me first just for a few minutes. In Disgrace Again 

Waking me up  - I really wish that I could make him understand how annoying it is to be woken up. He may be able to go to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, but if he wakes me up it takes me ages to get back to sleep. Of all the things that we argue about I find this the most hurtful because it is so thoughtless.  Tiredness Can Kill


What to wear - Robbie is so conventional in some ways, but when it comes to clothes he is unique, in fact I sometimes wonder about his sanity. The clothes he wears are a bit like him, loud, startling and a bit crazy - need I say more! I believe passionately in freedom of choice - my freedom to choose not to go out with him looking like that!! Human Rights


Hoarding - Both of us are hoarders, we both hoard different things for different reasons and it often leads to conflict. I have written countless posts about Robbie and his love of clutter, so it seems only fair to link to posts that explain what I hoard and why. Confessions of a Hoarder  Parting with Memories

Being tactless - Robbie has an unfortunate habit of speaking his thoughts and it can get him into big trouble at times Questions Questions 

Lack of awareness - Robbie is very lovable, but he has a complete lack of awareness of the way that his actions impact on those around him - mostly me!
Give Him an Inch and He Takes a Mile! 


The Location of the North - This is a matter of fierce debate. Having grown up in Northamptonshire I know that the North starts at Watford Gap but Robbie grew up in Staffordshire and he gets extremely annoyed when I say that he is from the north. We have a similar debate about the Midlands, Robbie thinks that the Midlands means Birmingham, but I keep telling him that Northamptonshire is classed as East Midlands while the whole area around Birmingham is the West Midlands. If yo really want a reaction from Robbie tell him that he has a Birmingham accent - and then run very fast!! I cant tell the difference but he insists that his Walsall accent is completely different.


Burial or Cremation - This is something that we will never agree about. When the time comes I want to be cremated because I think it is cleaner and more responsible, but Robbie wants to be planted. If he really annoys me I tell him that he will have to make sure he outlives me if he wants to get his own way, but he knows that if it came to it I would of course respect his wishes.

Some of these things are fairly trivial but some we could almost fight to the death over. Maybe that is why the blog is so useful, it helps me to get it out of my system without harming him! Some people say it is healthy to argue, it is better than not communicating at all and it is fun making up afterwards!

Barking Mad

I never want to get up when the alarm goes off but this morning Robbie and I were both more tired than usual because he was very late getting back from work yesterday and we didn't get to bed until well past 1am. I remember hitting the snooze button once or twice and I remember struggling to wake Robbie and get him moving, but after that it is a bit hazy. I must have closed my eyes again because the next time I looked there was cup of tea on my bedside cabinet and the clock had raced ahead. Suddenly I was wide awake and rushing to be ready on time.

I noticed that it was suspiciously quiet, by that time Robbie should have been in the shower, but I couldn't hear any noise at all from the bathroom. On my way to the bathroom I paused at the top of the stairs, Robbie was downstairs arguing with someone.

I was rather alarmed, who could he possibly be arguing with at this time in the morning? I couldn't enjoy the luxury of having the bathroom to myself because I was worried about what was going on downstairs. I reasoned that he must be talking to someone on the phone, but judging by the string of expletives whoever it was must have wound him up big style. Robbie is never at his best first thing in the morning so I was worried that he may come to regret his outburst later in the day.

As soon as I was washed and dressed I went dashing downstairs to find out what was going on. Robbie was standing in the kitchen wearing only a t-shirt and he appeared to be arguing with the back door. I am used to weird but that sight stopped me in my tracks, I thought we may need professional help!! Finally everything became clear, Robbie was having a heated argument with Meg the dog who had apparently asked to go out into the garden and refused to come back in. I can understand Robbie's frustration but Meg is extremely deaf and more than a little confused so yelling at the back door was not exactly productive. I guess I should be grateful at least he didn't scare the neighbours by chasing her round the garden wearing next to nothing!

Dr Dolittle

I am used to Robbie having long conversations with the cats and he invests a lot of effort into teaching them to tell the time. On Friday evening I witnessed a conversation between Robbie and Dave the cat. Dave had been fussing around asking to be fed and Robbie pointed up at the kitchen clock and said "when the big hand is on twelve it will be feeding time". Dave is very good communicator, his expression and his body language was more eloquent than any hand signal. He stalked off into the lounge and settled down by the fire, he preferred to examine his nether regions than to have yet another lecture on telling the time from Robbie.

The big hand finally got to 12 and true to his word Robbie fed the animals. Afterwards Dave had the devil in him and he did a couple of things to annoy Robbie, he tried to steal Robbie's food and then he sat on some newly folded laundry. When it comes to food Robbie is not good at sharing, dressed only in his underwear he pursued Dave around the lounge and the kitchen flapping a tea towel at him and telling him that he doesn't steal Dave's food and he doesn't intend to share his with Dave! Robbie chased Dave up the stairs and I heard a series of expletives emanating from the bathroom. Obviously Robbie had given up on teaching him to tell the time and was now giving him a lesson in colloquial English! Robbie announced that Dave had hidden behind the bath (I didn't really blame him) but suddenly Robbie thundered down the stairs waving an aerosol can. Dave darted into the lounge in search of protection and I told Robbie to put the can down and behave himself. I am used to acting as referee in spats between Sam and Robbie (at times it is like having two teenagers), but having a row with a cat is a step too far!

Red and Green Not Fit To Be Seen

Oh my goodness, he gets worse. We were heading out to the supermarket and then to my mums and I happened to glance down to see the horror at the end of his legs. He was wearing red patterned shoes and lurid green socks with bright blue tops, a truly scary sight! to borrow one of my mum's sayings, it made him look 'half sharp' but he refused to change, so I was forced to walk around the supermarket with him. The other shoppers gave him some funny looks, they probably though he had escaped from somewhere!

Oh well it will be back to work tomorrow, back to reality. I will miss Robbie, but at least it will stop us arguing about silly things, last week we almost came to blows about Boris Johnson of all things and today his insistance on rearranging the trolley in the supermarket almost led to divorce!

Man Stress!

Sam needed film for his camera and we needed a scart lead for the DVD player, so on Monday we look a drive into Cromer to have a look at the shops. In the end we abandoned Robbie in Jarrolds, I had waited for him for so long that I thought I would grow roots. They sell all Robbie's favourite things, books, DVDs, jigsaws and pens, so there is no hope of dragging him away. There was a sad gap on the main street, the old Woolworths shop remains empty and the town doesn't seem right without it. There is another bookshop and I enjoyed having a look around, Robbie did more than look, when he finally dragged himself away from Jarrolds, he found three railway books and a book about buses that he absolutely had to buy. We had a meal at our favourite restaurant overlooking the pier, but unfortunately Robbie had a man stress about something really trivial.

We went back via Tesco, just to pick up some milk and bread and a few bits and bobs, but Robbie was still feeling uptight and he argued about everything from the amount of milk that we needed to what kind of meat to buy. When he shouted at me about the kind of spread I wanted I knew it was time to make some changes. I gave him my purse and said that to avoid an argument I would go and wait in the car, but in the end he went and I finished the shopping. We drove home in smouldering silence, I really don't understand why he gets uptight about such trivial stuff. Oh well, I guess I can look forward to making up! Come to think of it the last time he was trying to make up he got sidetracked and started telling me about baby Deltics! Sometimes it is easier to just give up!

Lost For Words

It hasn't been the most wonderful weekend. Robbie has been struggling with a bad back and an uncooperative leg for a while and he found last week especially challenging. We planned to go shopping as soon as he got home on Friday, but I could tell as soon as he walked to the car that all was not well. He was not walking very well at all and as soon as he got into the car he complained about the pain in his leg. He then sat in the car and had a serious word with his foot telling it to behave itself - I was expecting the men in white coats to turn up at any minute! It is the sort of situation when whatever you say will prove to be the wrong thing. I could tell there was something on his mind and before long he told me that a casual remark by a colleague had really got to him. He hates to give in, and accept that he has a problem, but occasionally he has to take things a little more steadily. He still meets his deadlines, but sometimes he just needs to do it his way.

Shopping wasn't a joy Robbie insisted that we should still go but he was ready to fall out with his own shadow. He may not have had much control over his wayward leg, but he was going to make sure he controlled everything else. We nearly came to blows when we got to the checkout because it had to be done Robbie's way and he got really assertive about it. I left him to put the shopping in the car his way, but when I dared to put something in the fridge he declared war and ordered me out of the kitchen. When I went back a bit later to do some washing up he tried to take over and when I resisted he stood behind me telling me I was doing it all wrong!

It was no surprise when later in the evening we had an argument because he was being totally controlling and unreasonable. I look forward to the weekend all week but I don't know why because something or other always comes along to spoil it.

Triffid Trouble

Robbie spent Sunday morning doing battle with a 'triffid' in the garden that has to be dug out before he can erect the final fence panel – it won! It is still standing defiantly, Robbie had to retire from battle due to exhaustion but he thinks he has a least inflicted some damage to the roots and battle will recommence next week. Maybe his skirmish in the garden put him in an awkward mood because he was in argumentative mood in the afternoon. First he absolutely insisted that I was wrong about the type of shampoo that I use for the dog, then later he insisted that I was lying about the cost of a BT call out when there is no line fault. What stupid things to argue about! He did apologise later when he found that he was wrong on both counts, it was fun watching him eat humble pie!

Leaving Home

Robbie is totally frustrated by the restricted train timetable between Northampton and Rugby. He was out of sorts by Wednesday and positively evil by Thursday morning. He ranted and raved because he claimed that I hadn't ironed any shirts for him, I had, there were at least five ironed shirts but I had forgotten to look into my crystal ball and predict what he would want to wear on Thursday. After a meaningful exchange of views his ironing privileges were withdrawn and I threatened to starch his underwear if he continued to annoy me.

Friday is the only chance that Robbie and I have to spend a weekday evening together, so I was less than amused when Robbie didn't get back to Northampton until 8.30pm! I wouldn't have minded quite so much if I had known before I cooked his meal but apparently the phone connection between Birmingham and Northampton is as unreliable as the train service!!

When Robbie surfaced on Saturday he was still behaving like a bear with a sore head and I was totally fed up with his behaviour. I refuses to accept his lame apology, as far as I am concerned “I'm sorry but you shouldn't wind me up” is not an apology it is an excuse. He decided to leave home and packed a rucksack while I watched with interest. It reminded me of the time that Laura left home when she was about three. She took her Edd the Duck rucksack, a noddy cuddly toy, four packets of raisins and a carton of fruit juice. She forgot to take a coat, but as she only went as far as the garden shed she didn't really need it! Robbie packed his laptop and his ipod, but I knew he didn't intend to leave because he didn't pack any clean underwear! He was furious when he realised that I wasn't taking him seriously, but in the end we had to laugh about it.

Once we were friends again you may have expected Robbie to have a few loving thoughts to share, but in his own unique way Robbie surprised me with a completely random comment. He informed me that when he was a child his mum had a Hoover Junior, he then asked if I remembered the Hoover Senior because his grandmother had one of those. I replied that I didn't and I wasn't especially interested in the history of vacuum cleaners. The next time I checked my email he had sent me links to three sites about old vacuum cleaners. Why does he have to be quite so unique?

Like a Bear with a Sore Head 05.02.08

Robbie was like a bear with a sore head yesterday. His laptop died on Saturday evening and he is so upset about it. There was no warning, nothing to suggest anything was wrong, it just turned up it's toes and died mid email. Robbie thinks it could be the mother board, but if you ask me there are two possibilities, boredom or exhaustion. His misery was compounded when he found that the only people who support Philips laptops in UK are PC World. I really mustn't share my opinion of PC World because it isn't printable, let's just say that I am deeply unimpressed. Robbie spent ages ringing round to various branches to find out which store had custody of the single brain cell this week, amazingly it was Coventry (I guess Coventry has to have something going for it). So Robbie will be delivering his laptop for a diagnosis (or possibly a post mortem) this morning. I have been very generous in sharing my computer, but he is absolutely lost without his laptop.

He had his first rant before 6am yesterday morning, and his first 'I'm sorry' text arrived before 7am! When he got home he managed to provoke a furious row by asking me not to cremate the peas! When I met him he hated peas, now suddenly he's an expert. Believe it or not we disagree about 30 seconds cooking time. He says that my extra 30 seconds makes the colour fade. I am adamant that I am not a rabbit and I like my vegetables cooked, I gave up playing marbles when I was about 9 and I don't intend to start now! He kept on about the peas until I got cross and decided that if he wanted to be the next Jamie Oliver he could do it by himself, and I left him to serve the meal alone.

I forgave him later, but I don't suppose it will be long before he is in trouble again. I suppose I had provoked him a bit this evening because I had mentioned a name that always brings the worst out of Robbie - Barry Doe. I love reading the Barry Doe page in Rail magazine, but I should know better than to mention it to Robbie because it always makes him swear. I am not sure if his page is meant to be humorous, but it always makes me smile.