My hubby, forty years together and we are both getting old. Various marker pens on cartridge paper. He didn’t keep still or I would have done a better job on it. I’ve bought a few more permanent marker pens. Some are OK, but some seriously smell of something like acetone? I used a silver pen to try and add grey to his hair and reflections/highlights on his face.
Bread (with oats, rye, multiseed loaf mix and tiny bits of pasta!) I think he would have added the kitchen sink. He did add larde chunks of apple and also pear. Had a bit hot with some butter. Well cooked, moist, not too crusty! I’m amazed!
An explosion in the kitchen? No hubby making apple bread. There was flour over the draining board, the crockery drainer, in the sink, on the floor. He got me to scrape the dough off his hands it was so sticky. He had added oats and rye flour to a bag of breadmaking flour which had added yeast. It wasn’t rising very well but he added cooking apples to the loaves.
Now they are in the oven, cooking, I wonder how they will turn out? In half an hour I will know.
No not Batman, my hubby. We were walking home this evening, when we saw a young couple over the other side of the road start to argue. The man was taller than the young woman and had started swearing at her. She was arguing back but getting the worst end of things, suddenly he picked her up over his shoulder and started to run with her. Like a rugby tackle. There were people walking past next to the couple but they were doing nothing, just walking past and away. Suddenly next to me my hubby started shouting. Oi, put her down! Leave her alone! What do you think you are doing?!, the man put the girl down. They were still fighting though. So he carried on shouting, leave her alone! I’m calling the police if you don’t leave her alone! We were still over the road, I got my phone out to ring them up, but the couple ran off into the darkness. I hope the woman will be OK. She ran off with the man, perhaps they had been drinking or taking drugs? At least my hubby intervened. He stopped them hurting each other.
My hubby just disturbed our hedgehogs nesting place in our shed. He put his hand on one of them and it spiked him! He didn’t know they were in there. He was trying to tidy the shed up. He also found that they had used a corner of the shed as a latrine. I’m not happy because he took our hoover out to clean up the shed! The hedgehogs were under bags of straw that we used to insulate the cat bed for the abandoned cat we look after.
They didn’t run out, just hunkered down, so he put the straw back in place. Hopefully they are here to stay!
I’ve bought you a present, said my hubby. I saw it and thought of you! How much did it cost? £5. OK, but we already have three teapots a coffee pot and a cafetiere….? But I wanted to buy you a present.
I got you a glass ornament too. A tree shaped thing with two colourful parrots on branches comes out of a bag. But the cats will break it! I found it a safe space.
I know I’ve got no taste, he said, but I wanted to show you I love you.
OK, thank you, I appreciate it. The coffee set will reside in the summerhouse. (With the spiders).
I’d like to be silly, daft, funny, have a laugh. But recently I’ve had to become, as my hubby calls me ‘ captain sensible’.
The thing is I’m his carer. I don’t like thinking about it but he has mental health issues and I have to keep a level head to keep him safe. But I don’t like it. I have to negotiate with him when he has manic ideas. I have to think through what he can do. I sometimes feel like a jailer. And yet I’m being sensible. I don’t think he should go and find a newt and put it in the pond, or buy another three bicycles to add to his collection of ten he already has. Or come home with another tree for our wooded garden. Some things are simple negotiation. Others are confusing. He buys ornaments we don’t need. He spends money in one particular shop on stuff that’s basically junk. But he’s happy. But they must see him coming… I worry about some of the things he declares he’s going to do. I won’t discuss them here. I can’t describe the anxiety he goes through every day, over things I would call trivial. I try and hold it all together and then live my life on top of that..
For most of his life he’s not been interested in cooking. He doesn’t like me to explain what to do. When he roasted a chicken once he added a whole big bulb of garlic. He can cook poached egg on toast, he does cook bread, he tries to cook bacon by frying it for a minute then microwaving it.
Today he wanted to make a loaf out of self raising flour. With no yeast. I explained that would be more like pastry, and that you use self raising mainly for making cakes. I told him he could use about eight ounces of flour, four ounces of butter, four ounces of sugar, but as we had none he could use a couple of heaped spoons of sweetener. This is a granular one you can cook with. A couple of eggs, and milk, not water, which he was going to use.
I went upstairs on the computer while he went out to get butter.
I was going to explain. He knew about Crumbling flour and butter together, then I told him to add sweetener, then the eggs and milk, then some de-stoned cherries if he wanted to.
I was upstairs, and it was terribly quiet. A friend rang so I came downstairs. Hubby was just about to put the cake in the oven. I looked around, he’d used about twelve ounces of flour (not weighed it out) three quarters of a tub of margarine. Two eggs a bit of milk and a teaspoon! of sweetener. To this mix he’d added half a bowl of cherries and then kneaded the mix! I tried to explain you need the mix to be more liquid and that you gently stir in the milk to keep the cake light.
Well he tried. The cake is cooking, gas mark 4,initially for 45 minutes in the centre of the oven. I’m worried it will be a bit heavy when it comes out.
Another day of lockdown.
Trying to look cool
He is funny
He makes me laugh.
He is mine
After forty years.
￼Oh why can’t I cut your hair? It is curly and long, unruly and greying. It brushes your shoulders, grows out of your ears and nose. Could be used by birds for nesting material or as a pan scourer.
I could sneak up on you with some scissors whilst you sleep and might get half your head done. But then I would have to nudge you to turn over and risk waking you up. So you would have to remain half shorn till the next night.
Then each day you look more like Einstein, but you are a proper professorial person. Pottering round the potteries. Perambulating pointedly with your apparent perm… Oops got a bit carried away!
So like Sampson you hair stays uncut… Till later tonight…