The Wrong Kind of Balls.

For a man who spends his working life dealing with timetables, Robbie's record of keeping to any kind of timetable in his private life is dismal. Yesterday he rang me at work to announce that he was still at work and wouldn't be back until 9.30pm, and he needed a lift. I couldn't express my annoyance adequately because I was at work, but he got the general impression.

When he finally got home, I expected him to be tired and just a little bit sorry for messing up our evening routine. Instead he appeared in the doorway of the lounge, hands on hips complaining that I had not discussed an important purchase with him. He complained that I had bought the wrong kind of tumble dryer balls, because the last ones eventually cracked. I told him that the previous ones had lasted for almost 3 years, not bad for 99p! He was not convinced and he said that he wants nothing to do with the new balls because they are the wrong brand. Oh well, he has two choices, he can either put up with it or manage without any balls!

Robbie went to see the children in Walsall yesterday, just a brief visit to deliver their Easter gifts, then back to work to finish a few things off because he is off to Ireland this morning. He was quite late home so by the time we had eaten I was quite tired and he made it worse by reciting packing lists over and over again. He will be back on Thursday evening so I don't think packing would have proved too taxing, it is just Robbie's way to speak his thoughts and he drives me mad, I had to beg him to shut up.

I correctly predicted that Robbie would want the white shirt that he wore yesterday to take to Ireland, so as soon as he got home I put a load of white washing on. I was too tired to stay up and wait to put it in the dryer so I left Robbie with clear instructions. I often go to bed before Robbie and I am usually asleep within a few minutes, but there is no guarantee of staying asleep. Robbie tends to appear like an apparition at the end of the bed, flapping his arms and sighing a lot - like Marley's ghost without the chains. He launches into conversation regardless of whether I am asleep or awake. Last night I became aware of Robbie's voice saying something about his balls not working anymore, I struggled towards consciousness wondering whatever could be wrong. Further conversation revealed that his shirts had come out of the dryer badly creased and Robbie was blaming the dryer balls (they work brilliantly by the way). I told him to put the shirts on a quick wash and then hang them on coat hangers to dry them over night. The apparition vanished or to be more accurate it stomped off and it was heard rampaging around the house for the next hour or so.

Robbie got to the airport safely this morning and the mystery of the balls was solved - they didn't work because he had stuffed the dryer so that the air could not circulate properly. When Robbie phoned from the airport I told him to take care and stay safe, he replied that he would be fine because he'd had three weetabix this morning - I don't think I will ever understand how that man's mind works!