Tag Archives: The Man
I’m struggling to find time to upload my daily Life I Love blog at the moment. I’m still making sure I take note of all the things that make me smile, but the small matter of having, erm, FIFTY THOUSAND WORDS TO WRITE IN SIX WEEKS, plus a fuck-load of quite serious plot wrangling, is impeding my ability to share such moments with you. Sorry. So, in the interim, I have decided to introduce you (or re-introduce the die-hards amongst you) to my early blogs from Argentina. I lived there for a year starting June 2010 and had the very … Continue reading
The Man, who was part of a group of men dressed as fairies, met another group of men – these ones dressed as rabbits – back in the early noughties. It was at the Heinekin Cup Final. Everyone was drunk. The fairies and the rabbits bonded. The rabbits gatecrashed the Fairies’ bus and went on an adventure with them. They all met up the next year. And the year after that. And the year after that . . . The fairies have gradually subsided but the French Rabbits live on. They come to the final every year, dressed as rabbits, … Continue reading
Last night, 11pm. We are lying in bed. Without warning, The Man sits up and exclaims ‘FROTTAGE CHEESE!’ and then dies laughing. This bore no relation to anything we were doing in bed, by the way. It’s just The Man. He is an adorable wazzock, he really is.
The Man, when he takes his clothes off, leaves them in a heap on the floor. From that moment on they become invisible to him. This is what he sees when we walks into the bedroom: And this is what I see: It has been a challenge, inserting this into my Life I Love blog strand. But I’m determined to love it. (Grits teeth, tries REAL BLOODY HARD)
The Man’s been away a lot in London. I miss him. Although it’s nice of course to have an occasional break from the trumps and the mess. But I miss him most when I wake up and he’s not there next to me, curled up like a little shrimp. A six foot shrimp. You know what I mean. So you can imagine my joy this morning when I found The Man asleep in the bed next to me. He got back crazy late so I didn’t even notice him coming in. But there he was! A big handsome sleeping prawn! … Continue reading
I walked into the bathroom this morning to find The Man, fresh out of the shower and naked as the day he was born, engaged in a full-on disco. He was singing and dancing with total abandon and only making cursory attempts to dry himself. And when he saw me he carried on dancing but somehow dragged me, barely even awake, on to his bathmat dancefloor and made me join in. And that’s that, really. I won’t post a picture of that one.
I gave up meat when I was thirteen because I could no longer reconcile the contradictory imperatives of desperately loving animals and desperately wanting to eat them. I did fourteen long, miserable years without meat. It was awful. If you’re a vegetarian, don’t be cross. Just understand that I was born a carnivore. There wasn’t a day when I didn’t long for a nice pork chop or some roast chicken or a rare steak. I was nearly sacked from a hotel I worked at as a teenager because the chef caught me with a lamb shank in my hand, sniffing … Continue reading
The Man and I have joined a gym because we want to become body builders. Day one: I put The Man on an exercise bike to warm up. I instruct him to do five minutes of fast-ish cycling at low resistance. He spots the tv screen on the bike and looks happier. Fifteen minutes later, he is still on the bike. He is not peddling fast. ‘What are you doing, The Man?’ I ask, returning to his bike. ‘Playing cards on this screen,’ he admits grudgingly, not quite meeting my eye. Day two: we both have inductions with the in-house … Continue reading