My ex- husband rang me at 6.30 this morning to tell me, he had the new ‘Ting Tings’ CD. It was playing top blast as I picked up the telephone.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“I am now,” I answered.
“I’ve got that music you were on about, it’s great!”
I can’t remember the last time I’d heard him so excited; well I can but I won’t go into that!
“Did you listen to the football last night?”
“No,” I said, “Why would I?”
He, (my ex) listens to the radio all night long, while he drives a truck. The solitude of his cab and the lack of human contact suit his nature. He doesn’t like people very much.
“Well, Chelsea lost, so they were interviewing their supporters and I just knew they were going to use that word.”
“What word?” I said, trying to sound interested.
“Gutted!” he spat the word down the phone.
“I bloody hate that word. Can’t they think of anything better to say, like devastated, upset, or heartbroken?”
“Good morning to you too!” I said, “Don’t take it so seriously, I think you’re suffering with ‘Cabin Fever’ go for a walk.”
“Ok, are the girls alright, did they enjoy the camping trip?”
“They had a great time, they did kayaking, archery, and loads of other things. You should have seen them though; they looked like they’d been travelling round India for six months not in St Austell for three days!”
“What did Freya do when she saw them?”
“Cuddled them and told them she’d missed them. But I hadn’t even put their bags in the boot of the car before they were arguing about who could sit where.”
“So things are back to normal then?”
“It certainly got back to normal later,” I replied, “I took them round to Sandra for tea, so the girls could play with Martha, Alfie and Eltica, but we had to leave after an hour because they were so stroppy.”
He, (the ex) was laughing.
“It’s not funny,” I said, “I was really looking forward to them coming home and chatting with them. As it was, I had to put them all in a hot bath with a cup of chamomile tea and a few drops of Rescue Remedy. They were in bed and asleep by 7.30pm.”
“Quiet night then?” he said stifling his amusement.
“Once I’d had a cup of coffee and a Fairy cake with gin icing, it was great!”
“Make me some for when I come down on Saturday, they sound great.”
“Ok, see you then, have a good sleep.”
“Yes, have a good day, bye.”
As I put the phone down, Sorcha walked in.
“Mummy, can I wear tights with my school dress?”
“Good morning darling,” I replied.
“I like you mum, you’re funny.”
“Yes, you can wear them.”
“Cool! I’d have been gutted if you’d said no.”
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Hi Ruth, finally accessed your blog after my husband managed to screw up the pc. Ooh, let’s see now, how did this happen? Well, for a number of years (like waiting for the cupboard door to be fixed) I’ve been asking him to reload the software because the system was running too slow (ok, not quite like cupboard door job). Well, last week he finally got round to it and backed up the files. Once said mission was accomplished, he then reloaded the backup disc…. A death like silence crept upon the household. I knew exactly what had happened but considered it sufficient enough to warrant some more sweating. After the customary groans and OMG statements I finally said, ‘what’s happened?’ Like I didn’t know! Trouble was, I was seething because after two years, I’d finally managed to find my work based learning project (having found it in the photos folder for some obscure reason) which amassed a serious amount of blood, sweat and tears in order to complete my final year at Uni…. Couldn’t wait to read it again and was truly savouring the moment when I had a spare few hours. ‘Gutted’ he replied, ‘everything’s gone.’ ‘What do you mean everything‘s gone, gone where?’ I continued, ‘I thought you’d backed them up.’ ‘I did’ he mumbled between his hands. In a slightly sarcastic manner I replied, ‘did you check to see if the files were on the disc?’ A resounding ‘no’ came from the corner of the room. I then followed this with a hint of derision, ‘I can’t believe you did that Jay, you’re usually soooo cautious.’ At this point, I did feel somewhat guilty and decided to bring the whole misery to an end… ‘Well, that’s screwed a few things up hasn’t it?’ This then lead to a quiet degeneration (as the kids were around) into who’s misery was the worst in relation to who’s files bore the most importance.
The word ‘screwed’ has many connotations; from being screwed over to screw you. Some may argue that it’s a useful implement. That was a @*@*ing good screw (with appropriate sounds) although personally, it’s particular use in this direction has not been heard in this household for a few years now! Anyhow, back to the pc. To cut a long story short, it took him a while to reload the software and for us to finally get connected to the outside world again. ‘Gutted‘, he bloody well was.
Love D. x
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