Mr B has been doing his Dr Dolittle act again. On Sunday evening he had a word with me on behalf of the guinea pig. According to Robbie she is not as satisfied with the new carrots I bought because they are the wrong shape! I told him that she is a guinea pig and as long as she has enough to eat she is not bothered about size, to her three small carrots are just as good as one large one. I could tell by his expression that he wasn't convinced, he told me that he was sure that she found the larger ones more satisfying.
Usually I buy 'saver' carrots for her, but last week they had some small 'finest' organic carrots on offer. They were cheaper than the saver carrots so I chose those for the guinea pig along with her curly kale and other vegetables. I am fairly sure that she didn't even notice the difference, I think it is Robbie who has the problem not the guinea pig! Why do men have to obsess about size all the time?
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.
Robbie is a bit of a mixture, in some areas of life he is very open to new ideas, in fact it is hard to keep up with him at times, but when it comes to changing a brand that he is used to it is a very different story. He is fastidious about hygiene and he has to have the right brand, 'flavour' and size of the many toiletries he uses. If a brand changes the shape or size of container, or heaven forbid if they change the fragrance I know that we will be in for a difficult few weeks. Last year we faced a couple of problems like that, his trusted brand of deodorant not only changed the shape of the container, they changed the contents. I had to agree with him that the new fragrance was horrible, it made me cough and according to Robbie it wasn't nice on the skin. After lots of moaning he grudgingly agreed that he had to change and I set about finding a suitable replacement with the right smell and a container that met his specifications. I was lucky I stumbled across a less well known brand that met his needs perfectly - and peace was restored.
Then horror of horrors they discontinued his flavour of mouthwash. I scoured the town looking for it, but in the end he had to face facts and try another brand. I bought several, but he wasn't impressed, then we found one that met with his approval. It wasn't cheap and he gets through it remarkably quickly, but it was worth it for a peaceful life. Then towards the end of last year the supermarket had his mouthwash on offer, it was better than half price so I stocked up. During the offer period I bought about a dozen bottles, which were left in the kitchen for several weeks because there was no logical place to store them. In the end I prevailed on Robbie to find a space and put them away. Imagine my surprise when he told me last week that he had run out of mouthwash and he needed me to buy more - at full price! I couldn't believe it, and under close questioning he conceded that he may have put the bottles away and forgotten where they were, but he thought it was more likely that I was mistaken and perhaps I had brought my son's brand rather than his. I am rarely mistaken! He wouldn't let me search for it at the weekend as he had tidied up, but I had my suspicions about where it was and when I had the house to myself today I played hunt the mouthwash. I found it stashed away next to the freezer (not sure why) so he now has 9 bottles to keep him happy!
Believe it or not there was yet another chapter to the trouser saga! Just in case anyone reading this has not read my recent posts I will recap briefly. Some time before Christmas we agreed that Robbie needed a new suit so he did his research, which included several trips to Marks and Spencer - his favourite shop. He chose the suit that he wanted but our local M&S had no stock in the size he needed so it was necessary to order the items online. They sell the jackets and trousers separately and much to Robbie's annoyance they had the jacket that he wanted in stock, but the trousers were not available in his size. So we decided to order the jacket and wait for them to get more stock of the trousers. Christmas came and went and Robbie (who had been checking the website twice a day) had almost given up on ever getting the trousers. Then finally the great day came, they were in stock and Robbie placed his order, he knew what size he needed and he ordered exactly the same size as the trousers he already has. He collected his trousers on a Friday from M&S in Birmingham, but he got distracted when leaving work and he managed to leave his trousers on his desk. The trousers had to be 'rescued' the following day but when he tried them on he found that they didn't fit, they were a bit on the tight side. It didn't make sense, they were exactly the same size as the ones he already has that fit him perfectly. He ordered the next size and when they arrived he said they were much more comfortable so he wore them to work.
Sadly that was not the end of the matter, he claimed they were too loose even with a belt and they kept slipping down. I don't want him to be arrested, so we will need to take the waist in a bit, next he said that they are too long and he is afraid of treading on them as he walks so we need to do something about the leg length too! I am sick of the whole trouser issue and Robbie seemed deeply affronted that he may be a non standard fitting. Anyway after weeks of constant complaint about trousers I have come up with the perfect solution - a kilt! It would certainly turn a few heads!!
I had to go to town today. Everyone else in the family would jump at the chance of a trip to town, but I am just the opposite. I can always find a reason not to go, and when I can avoid it no longer I have to force myself to go, but after braving a couple of shops I am ready to head home again. A long time ago I had an inner ear infection called labyrinthitis and it has left me with a bit of a problem with my balance. At the time I didn't think much about it, but over the years I have become increasingly troubled by crowded places, noisy places and places with 'busy' carpets. All those things make me feel dizzy or disorientated and it just makes me want to get away.
Today I had parked my car and I was walking down the main shopping street towards the central shopping area when my ears were assailed by an unspeakable noise - someone was playing the bagpipes! It was so horrible that I almost gave up before I had even started. I couldn't help wondering why. I mean whatever possessed him to think that shoppers would appreciate listening to that row, and if the noise wasn't bad enough he was proudly displaying the most unattractive knees! I suspect he hoped that people would pay him to go away! If so he had underestimated our town, he got no money, just lots of disapproving comments, in fact many people actually covered their ears as they scuttled away to seek sanctuary.
My first port of call was Marks and Spencer. The store has been refitted since I last went there and it felt very busy and confusing. They don't seem to set shops out in any logical order these days. I wanted a jacket, but it was set out in such a way that I had to walk all around the store tracking down randomly placed jackets. I didn't like any of them. Most of all I didn't like the chaotic nature of the store. It was so badly designed that all the customers were totally bewildered and wandered around in ever decreasing circles. I had to get out of there before I lost the will to live.
Good old BHS was marginally better, but whatever gives these shops the idea that all women are over 6ft and a size 10! They only need to look at the people in their stores to realise that most women are not that shape. I looked at some nice skirts but all were too long, most would have dragged along the floor! I was so triumphant when I found one that actually fitted, that I bought it. I also bought the only jacket that fitted, most had sleeves so long that they must have been designed by a gibbon! At last I was out of the shop and heading home. The bonus is that parking costs are much cheaper these days, I hardly ever need more than an hour.
When Robbie got home he found my encounter with the bagpipes rather amusing, but he took matters a little too far by finding some bagpipe music and playing it at full volume on his laptop. I had to run for cover, it sounded like Bjork being strangled! I threatened him with cruel and unusual punishment - I am going to play him the complete works of Cliff Richard!!!
I need to take you back in time to the day about three weeks ago when Robbie and I went to order the new floor covering. I had deliberated about laminate but eventually we agreed that cushioned vinyl was a better option both for practicality and for the dog. She already has a tendency to do a Scooby Doo when she walks across the kitchen floor, her legs move frantically but they don't actually propel her forward because she is slipping on the floor.
Anyway all the difficult decisions had been made, all I asked Robbie to do was to measure the room accurately and to order floor covering. I should have noticed there was a problem when he gave the length measurement in metric and the width measurement in imperial! It was only after the floor covering had been delivered to our house that I realised he had ordered the wrong size. It was rolled width ways and it was about a metre wider than the room, making it impossible to unroll the vinyl. It took me a long time to get Robbie to acknowledge the problem, but eventually he had to recognise that he was well and truly 'in the dog house'. I can't begin to explain my frustration.
Robbie decided that the only solution was to call in an expert, but wanted nothing more to do with it. I couldn't trust myself not to harm him. The fitter was booked for this evening and I went out leaving Robbie to sink or swim. Several hours later I returned to find that the job had been done and the room looked very nice. I was just about to complement him when my daughter complained that Robbie had worn only PJ bottoms while the fitter was here and as if that wasn't enough to terrify the fitter, he had spent the whole time talking to the fitter about trains! I give up!
