The whole universe is based on rhythms. Everything happens in circles, in spirals - John Hartford

The weekend had slipped past far too quickly, so when we sat down on Sunday evening I wanted to enjoy what was left of the evening. The demands of another week would be upon us all too soon. It is nice to just be together, we don't have to talk all the time - and even Robbie can be quiet sometimes! Unfortunately yesterday wasn't one of his quiet times. I was working on updating the blog layout, but every time I started to concentrate on it Robbie started to talk to me again. Not just normal conversation, it was mostly 'did you know' type questions and a rather too enthusiastic sharing of information from the newspaper.

I thought I had made it clear to Robbie that I was becoming exhausted by too much trivia, but it seems he hadn't got the message. He called my name yet again and asked if I knew that Sainsburys are changing the size of the cardboard tube inside their own brand toilet rolls. I asked him why he would expect me to know that, we don't even shop at Sainsburys! My lack of interest didn't seem to bother him; he went on to tell me the exact dimensions of the new style toilet roll. He seemed disappointed that I still wasn't interested, so he made a final bid for my attention by telling me that there was a circle printed in the paper that we could cut out. With the aid of the circle we could find out if the new style rolls would fit our toilet roll dispenser. He got upset when I told him very bluntly that we don't use that brand of loo roll, we don't even shop in that supermarket so I don't need to know! I know Robbie loves detail, but honestly, that is ridiculous, there isn't enough free space in my memory for all the things I need to remember, I certainly don't have room for nonsense like that. 

When a man opens the car door for his wife, it's either a new car or a new wife - Prince Philip

The title of this post has very little to do with the content, I came across it and I liked it so I used it. My son pointed out to me the other day that I am getting more Random. He claims that I go around assimilating all sorts of odd information, facts and quotations and then when I find an unsuspecting 'victim' I share all my all this information regardless of whether they are interested or not. I told him that he was describing Robbie not me, but he said that was his point, I am getting more like Robbie.


I thought about what he had said and I had to admit that I do have some random thoughts. The other day I found myself wondering why some of the things that my grandmother considered essential are hardly used at all today. People can't have changed that much in my lifetime so why is it that we no longer need such things as back scratchers, shoe horns and smelling salts? Could it be true, am I becoming as random as Robbie?

I told my son that he was completely wrong, I could never be like Robbie because I would never wear the same sort of clothes as him. My son has the unnerving ability to raise one eyebrow (I wish I could do that). He looked at me, raised his eyebrow and reminded me about the coat that Robbie bought for me which is similar to his Berghaus jacket. I told my son that his theory was rubbish but in my mind I had visions of Robbie and I becoming the next Howard and Hilda with matching anoraks! What a terrifying thought.


With that thought still niggling in my mind I turned to the internet for support. I found some research from America that suggested that couples do not grow more alike over the years. What they found was even more worrying, they suggested that people tend to settle down with people whose traits mirror their own. So couples don't grow alike over time, they are fairly similar to begin with. That can't be true, Robbie and I couldn't be more different. I dismissed the research, after all it was done in America and I have serious misgivings about the collective judgement of a country that elected George W twice! I told myself that the results would be different if the same research was carried out in England. I remembered a quotation about statistics from my school maths book 'Statistics are like a lamp-post to a drunken man - more for support than illumination'. The American researchers may have questioned 1300 couples but their conclusions didn't support my point of view; no doubt if I had looked hard enough I could have found more favourable research but why bother. Despite my son's dire warnings, Robbie and I are very different people and that is exactly how it is going to stay. Just in case those researchers are right, we will be the exception that proves the rule!!

The human voice is the organ of the soul.

Saturday was our first day off since getting back from holiday, we had loads to do but we didn't do any of it so we have a busy Sunday ahead!


We had a nice lazy and quirky Saturday - any day with Robbie ends up being quirky. I didn't wake up very early and it was lovely to cuddle up to Robbie and know for once that we didn't have to rush. Robbie (always a creature of habit) paused during an intimate moment to share one of his random snippets of information. According to Robbie you can only use 420 characters when updating your Facebook status. It left me feeling rather anxious, I don't want every aspect of my life to become a Facebook update!!


A trip to Morrisons proved more challenging than usual. I have done something to my ankle and I was struggling to walk. Thankfully Robbie was walking quite well (but still in pain) otherwise it would have looked very odd with us both limping. We treated ourselves to a meal at Morrisons and in a weak moment I agreed to let Robbie have a curry - I hate curry! All went well until later in the day when he came bounding across the room to give me a kiss. He had scary breath and I sent him off to the other side of the room for the rest of the day.


We still managed to have fun at a distance. Robbie wanted me to listen to a voice message from his cousin in America. They found each other through a family history site and they get on extremely well. I knew what she looked like but until yesterday I didn't know what she sounded like (except for Robbie's very inaccurate rendition of the way she says his name). It was really interesting to listen to her talking about ordinary day to day things, well most of it was ordinary, one or two things were so random that they were worthy of Robbie. Clearly they share a randomness gene, but in her case it seemed much more controlled. One nice surprise was her voice, it was lovely and very easy to understand. I don't know why that came as a surprise, I guess we are exposed to a few scary American accents on television and I just seem to expect that American women either sound like Marge Simpson or Minnie Mouse. Anyway she had a very nice speaking voice and a lovely accent, but I couldn't help wondering what she makes of Robbie's accent. He says that she has no trouble understanding him, I doubt that somehow - but maybe the family connection helps.


'Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with deeper meaning.'  Maya Angelou 

Communication Skills

The wall to wall US election coverage was impossible to avoid yesterday. I couldn't believe that people had to stand in line for hours just to be able to vote, I thought that sort of thing only happened in third world countries. I am feeling tired this morning because I kept the radio on all night to listen to the Radio 4 coverage of the election results - Robbie was not amused, he buried himself in the duvet and snored loud enough to drown out the radio. I stayed awake long enough to hear about Obama's early victories, I woke several times to hear that the Democrats were heading for victory and when my alarm went off just before 5am (usual time) I was in time to hear Barack Obama's amazing victory speech, and then to John McCain's gracious acknowledgement of defeat. I think even his critics would admit that Obama is a great orator, of course he now has to turn the dreams and promises into action, but it really felt as if we were witnessing something significant. After Bush who is barely literate and seems incapable of stringing a sentence together coherently, it was a joy to listen to Obama. It made me feel a bit envious because we have no hope of inspirational leadership any time soon.

Talking of great communicators brings me on to Robbie. He can manage more words per minute than anyone else I know, but as far as communication is concerned sometimes less is more; I have to keep telling him to talk slowly because I haven't got a clue what he is talking about. He often accuses me of reading his mind (because he doesn't get away with very much!) but this morning he failed to communicate at all, apparently he thought telepathy was sufficient. My alarm went of at the usual time, I woke him at the usual time, he got up as reluctantly as ever and caused the usual clatter when he went downstairs. He brought my cup of tea earlier than usual, I didn't take much notice but I observed that he was well ahead of schedule when he went into the shower. I embarked on my normal routine at my usual time, but I felt that Robbie was rushing me along. Eventually I told him that he was way ahead of schedule, and it was only then that he told me he was aiming to catch an earlier train. Since I play an important part in getting him organised and out of the house on time clearer communication would have been very helpful!

Why Me?

In general I try to be a fairly helpful sort of person, nothing out of the ordinary, just on the boring side of normal if you know what I mean. So I really can't work out what it is about me that makes all sorts of people tell me about their problems.

I can be minding my own business wandering around the supermarket and bump into a parent that I knew slightly because years ago our children were in the same year at school. When I realise that I can't dart off in a different direction and pretend I haven't seen her, I manage a polite 'hello', and before I can stop myself the foolish question 'how are you' has slipped from my lips. Time slows down and my eyes glaze over as she relates every intimate and cringe makingly embarrassing health problem she has had in the last ten years. I do my best to compose my expression while my brain franticly searches for a plausible excuse to escape. When I finally reach the freedom of the car park I vow to be more careful in future, but it is so difficult to avoid the phrase 'how are you?'.

Another person who I know slightly because our children are friends bumped into me in the fizzy drinks section of the supermarket and after the briefest greeting proceeded to tell me in graphic detail about the trouble she was experiencing with piles – far too much information!

At work people tell me about problems with their children, their partners, their health and various unmentionable issues. I don't think I am especially sympathetic, I don't give amazing advice, I usually tell them that they understand their individual circumstances best so they are best placed to know the right answer for them. It isn't even that they think that if I can cope with Robbie I can cope with anything, because most of them don't know him. I really don't know what makes them confide in me.

A few weeks ago a customer at work asked for advice about a product, I helped him briefly as I would any customer. Now he seeks me out and comes to have a chat with me, he is a little unusual, in fact he may be the most boring man in the world. Last week he came in and told me about the history of a company that produces batteries, complete with dates, locations and sales figures. This week he took twenty minutes to tell me about the history and evolution of the cassette tape recorder. I asked if it was a special interest of his, he shook his head and said that he just likes information, then he added that he is most interested in the history of the teasmaid. I was horrified, could this possibly be Robbie's long lost twin! But to get back to the original question – why me?!

Ticks in Boxes

I didn't write much about the weekend mainly because I was on my own for most of Saturday, Robbie and Sam left early to spend the day with Robbie's dad and step mum in Norton Canes. It gave me a chance to catch up with some housework and to venture into the garden to tackle the hedge. Sunday morning was less busy and I was determined to relax and listen to The Archers Omnibus on the radio. You can always rely on Robbie for a Sunday morning quote and last Sunday was no exception. I hadn't seen much of him all week so it was nice to wake early on Sunday morning and know that we were in no rush to get up. We could have talked about anything under the sun, we could have just been quiet and enjoyed the luxury of time, but Robbie talked endlessly about the wonders of his dad's new cheese grater. Surely there is only so much anyone can find to say about a cheese grater - unless you are Robbie of course!

The Galaxy went back to have the break pads checked yesterday, they were fine but there is an intermittent fault on the sensor so I have to put up with the warning light and the very annoying alarm sound until it becomes a constant fault, then they should be able to identify which sensor is causing the trouble. I'm sure that car has a gremlin in it!

Sam went for his hay fever medication review at the doctors. It was such a pointless exercise, the nurse didn't ask anything about his symptoms she measured him, weighed him and asked if he smoked - no way will he smoke! How ridiculous, there would be some point to asking if it was part of a message to prevent young people from smoking, but it was just a tick in a box on the computer. That is the first time in his life that Sam has been weighed or measured at the doctors without screaming the place down. When he was younger he was extremely uncooperative when it came to developmental tests. He took particular exception to the wooden giraffe measuring stick on the wall, he wouldn't go near it and he screamed so much that people must have thought he was being tortured. Maybe he is like me, I object to being measured and monitored, and these days there is so much bureaucracy involved in health care that I don't feel like an individual anymore. It isn't the doctors fault, it is the system that is imposed by the government.

Lead For His Pencil 21.10.07

I should be used to Robbie sharing random and distracting snippets of information. This after all is the man who announced to a full car that he had just bought a bulk supply of lead for his pencil because he didn't want to run out! It is hard to drive with tears in your eyes, sometimes they are tears of laughter but on other occasions they are tears of exasperation. As we drove to the supermarket on Saturday, Robbie informed me that he preferred the 'emergency' washing up liquid to our usual brand because it was more aesthetically pleasing. According to him the shape of the bottle 'worked' for him and he thought the diameter of the dispenser hole was perfect. Fair enough, but he had overlooked one thing, it is rubbish when it comes to washing up! He had a bit of a strop when I insisted on buying my usual brand, but when he didn't win the battle of the washing up liquid he turned his attention to other things. During the weekend he has provided a detailed analysis of why the packaging of Morrisons own brand baked beans is preferable to the Heinz version. Just in case I actually cared he also informed me that there have been subtle changes to the Kwik Fit logo! He's hard work sometimes!