|Could it be keys to a Ferrari?|
So, today (Friday) we did the Christmas Food Shopping. On the mainland. In Tesco. Yeah, verily, bow down and worship at the feet of the Hestia The Indefatigable and the Blessed Wallet of Tartarus
I had a list, laid out with military precision - all the veggies together, all the meat and, of course, all the booze.
First of all, we dumped Sonshine at the
Actually, most of it passed off without incident. Although we did run into most of our island neighbours while we were there - which is only to be expected. It's ok running into someone at the beginning of the supermarket trek, but after bumping in to the same people in every subsequent aisle, conversation dries up. And everyone just looks pissed off to be there. You just eye-roll each other as another fifty quids worth of food gets added to the cart.
Anyway, picture the scene: we've just loaded up with umpteen bottles of Crabbies Ginger Beer and Tenants Lager when Tartarus announced that we needed more crackers.
'I've got crackers in the house,' I say breezily.
'But have we got enough?' he said, his brow creasing with concern. 'We've got friends coming on Boxing Day and I think we'll have none left after Christmas Day.'
My heart leapt - maybe
A short while later I arrive back at the trolley, cheeks aglow, a large box of crackers in my hand.
'What in the hell is that?' he asks.
'Crackers' I show him the box - gold and cream trimmed crackers, one dozen of the finest thereof.
He sighs. 'For CHEESE,' he says. 'Crackers for cheese.'
Well, it's a mistake that anyone could make, right? RIGHT?
For the first time in living memory, Tartarus has bought me a surprise Christmas present. I haven't had to buy it or wrap it (which is what has happened for the past 10 or so years).
My heart hopes that it is something crazy beautiful like an ipad or a kindle.....maybe jewellery? Oooooh - maybe theatre tickets for Warhorse or Wicked in London in the Spring?! My imagination has been working overtime.
Then friends reminded me of previous surprise presents that he'd bought me. And it reminded me of why he doesn't usually do this. I started to mither a bit about it......
'Alright, You can ask me ONE question about your present', he said magnanimously. 'But you can't ask me what it actually is outright, ok?'
'Ok. Here's my question: Is it from Halfords?'
There was a lot of huffing and puffing and bluster, but there was, dear reader, no outright yeah or nay.
I'll let you know on Christmas Day.
What's the betting it's wiper blades?