Back in the swirling mists of time, on one of our very first dates, Mrs A and I found ourselves in a cookware shop. I like to think of myself as a bit of a foodie and love such places. This one is a fine example of the genre, being located in the upmarket (for Leicestershire) town of Market Harborough and is choc full of food mixers in jaunty colours with heart attack-inducing pricetags, chef’s knives so sharp that they’ll relieve you of a finger faster than you can say “Ambulance please” and sufficient beautifully designed pointless gadgets in primary colours to fill the junk drawers of even the most spacious kitchens.
Middle aged women wandered hither and thither, fondling Cath Kidston teatowels and dreamed of their shabby chic kitchen in their seaside cottage, middle aged men stroked fancy coffee machines and wondered if their wives would look at them in the same way they look at George Clooney in the Nespresso ads if they bought one. The shop hummed with the hushed, polite exchanges of ‘excuse me’ and ‘oops, sorry’ that comes from having too many well-to-do folk in a restricted space.
And then I saw them.
Hanging from a wall at the rear of the shop were a number of designer teacosies. Something primal in my man-brain took over and I was drawn to them like a bee to nectar. I selected a particularly bright example, plonked it on my head and turned round grinning.
Mrs A looked genuinely horrified and thus I learned that her acceptable level for @rsing about in public was considerably lower than mine.
Fast forward to last Friday. I was sitting at my desk beavering away at high-powered stuff* when a picture message arrived from Mrs A. She was taking The Tall Guy to get some new clothes and was in M&S. The photo was taken in the swimwear department of M&S and depicted Mrs A wearing a surprisingly large polka dot bikini top. On her head.
I like to think that it’s a charming example of how close we’ve become, you may think that she’s been staring into the abyss for a little too long.
And me? How have I adopted Mrs A’s foibles? Moved towards her sensibilities?
Well, last night I signed up for a book group. Between my surprisingly short attention span and my reading speed in line with people who are likely to be aiming to finish the book to get a gold star from their teacher, I can’t see it ending well. But I bet it’ll be entertaining.
* - Probably drinking coffee and/or talking to my delightfully bonkers assistant.