Its my dream, not his and LM moves out..

Comments 20 Standard

It would appear, dear Readers, that LM wont be proposing to me anytime soon.  He has, in fact, decided to move out, so I shall cease the amount of days that I have been counting since we met and realise that fate has once again dealt me a crushing blow.

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I am not entirely sure what was the final card ” we” dealt but suffice to say that he has decided to kip in the spare room now for 10 days and although he still puts his washing in the wash bin and uses ” our bathroom”, there seems to be no thawing.

It seems to be coupled with the fact that I had a dream which I wrongly assumed to be his also, but in fact it wasn’t.  As Number Two Son said, rather sagely, ” Mum, its our dream, not his!” and I take this as a small bit of comfort that the next part of my journey will be without him.

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The dream I have is to remodel my Dad’s house on the beach.  It was an undertaking that I would have preferred to have taken with LM but as he isn’t about, I shall galvanise myself and do it alone.  As The Pilot said whilst communicating with me recently from Lusaka ( where he currently lives with his wife ! ) , ” Nanooka, take a deep breath; wipe your sword and move forward.  You are stronger than you think!” and with this printed off and stuck to the front of my PC I am, indeed, moving on.

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Its certainly not a trip for the faint hearted.  I have sold my house and will have to either camp in a caravan on site for six months or rent somewhere.  Personally, I would prefer camping out on site, but the Architect says he would prefer NOT to have me there, because apart from the Builders having to work around me, they also don’t want to be responsible for losing any chickens; cats or dogs.   So I will be relegated to renting a home for a few months and planning my future.

I see me growing old disgracefully; drinking a Gin Sling on the Balcony and throwing stones at the passerbys. I am obviously destined to be single; batty and have a house full of animals and not men, but  with a wonderful view of the Channel and the twinkly Wind Farms, what’s not to like?  It will be ” The House that Jack, (re) built…)

Its a new adventure and I cant wait….

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Two Beers; a Curry and a fight

Comments 19 Standard

I was very excited about the Curry Evening and felt prepared and even, “in control”.  Then the guests arrived.  I was just in the middle of putting the chickens to bed ( they are lazy and wont put themselves away until I shoo them up their steps to their coop ) when the doorbell rang.  I was still running around with rollers in my hair and my dressing gown.  I had showered though.  Bonus in everything. Something! Well, nothing, as it would later appear…

David had turned up early and as he undid his scarf and coat told me he didn’t want a Curry.  Bit late to tell me after I had slaved over the Hob all day making 3 of the dammed things.  I took his coat and left him standing in the hallway.  I was a bit hacked off already.

Next through the door, and still before the allotted time for Bombay Blasters was Jon.  Jon and Murielle have just sold their house and are relocating to France.  I wasn’t sure if he thought it a blessing or not, as Jon is very hard to read.   He Is actually very well read but hides it well.  He prefers to be the contentious one at the party. A real Agent Provocateur!  He is also an Anarchist, which doesn’t go down well with David.  Local Councillor.  Or Bill and Jenny, who I love to death but are  straight out of The Shires and adore all things royal.  I allow them to choose their seats, rather than get involved.  Jon also drives a Jag. so the socialist bit of his Anarchic life style falls down.  I think he has little man syndrome.  Small man. Big Car. ‘Nuff said. Jon was obviously having a slow moment.  He likes to be contentious and he was.   Sitting quietly at the top end of the table, he learned across and said in a huge stage whisper ” are you still sexually active?” to Maria, the Portuguese neighbour.  I wasn’t sure whether she was going to laugh; have a heart attack or a case of the vapours, so I decided to serve the curry.

Bill and Jenny are very pleasant.  Very pleasant indeed.  Think ” rich and pleasant land” and country fetes and you have them, all tied up in a red check bow from Laura Ashley or Bodens.  Bill plays Golf with LM at the local ( Bull shit) Golf Club.  Jenny goes to Yoga and the Book Club unless it conflicts with the Bridge Night as, it would appear, it often does.  Its all very Middle England.  I just observe.  I shouldn’t snipe, I am probably just jealous.  A social Interloper.  I don’t quite cut it at the Golf Club and cant play Bridge or Poker.  No hope for me, obviously….

Anyway, it seemed to go down pretty well.  An odd amalgam of Peeps; plenty of red wine and some gentle bantering.  Then the Brexit question.   Of course, I voted out and still do.  It may be a rough patch we will sail through but like everything else, there is always an end to it.  I know it will be fine in the end, and if it isn’t fine, then it isn’t the end ( I nicked that from the Exotic Marigold Hotel before someone accuses me of plagiarism )

Jon didn’t want Brexit.  Bill and Jenny did.  The Portuguese Lady whose sexual activities were questioned over the chicken Jalfrezi naturally, didn’t want to go home.  After all, why should she as she seems to have a very nice home and a UK Pension.  How the heck did that happen?

I admit I was in the kitchen warming up the Camembert when it all kicked off but before I knew it, there was a shout of ” mind the curry” and ” grab the wine!”.  I hesitated and fiddled with the oven temperature.  What to do? What to do? What to do?

Once I had heard nothing more for at least 30 seconds I ventured the courage to walk back to the dining room.  It was mighty quiet there.  Bill and Jenny were sitting quietly sipping red wine. God that man can drink!  And fast!  I assumed it was more of a nervous reaction than quenching his thirst.  Murielle was mopping something off Jon’s face.  As it turned out it was curry but for a minute I thought it might be blood and Maria, Portuguese lady with good UK Pension was simply rubbing her hands.  I had missed something, but no one was saying.

So you probably think that the fight ensued when I was in the kitchen.  Not so.. it happened later.  Having a few spiky remarks made during the meal, the battle lines were drawn and Maria; Jon and Bill&Jenny began eyeing the exit nervously. Murielle didn’t eye anything.  She seemed to be blissfully unaware of anything.  Wonderful state of life to be in, that’s for sure.   The conversation which had started off so well became very limp and forced down one end of the table and very controversial down the other.  I sat, quietly, in the middle, rather like being at a tennis match.  Looking at one end of the Court and then the other.

Finally, and yes it had become a long evening, they took to leaving.  Once one person stood up.  In this case, Dave, the Local Councillor, everyone stood up.  ” Anyone want a lift home?” he enquired.  Eying up Jon who, Dave considered, would only act that way under the influence.    In any event, it didn’t matter as Murielle was driving.

So I was not quite sure how it happened but somewhere along the line, Murielle got into the Jag. Now whether it was excitement to leave the curry night or needing to escape an embarrassing moment I am not sure,  but she did what many did in her age range do and that is, mistook the first gear for reverse and having pressed foot to metal in no uncertain fashion she took with her firstly, my flowing shrub; secondly LM’s wing mirror on his ” toy” and thirdly the rear bumper of Bill’s new Audi.    As always in moments like this, we draw breath and wonder who will blink first.  In this case, it was Bill who wrenched open the door on Murielle’s side and shouted across her to Jon, who by that time seemed to be having difficulty in breathing and I wondered whether a call to 911 would be on the cards.  After all, he is 73!

” Why are you driving a Jag when you are a sodding Socialist?” seemed to be the question of the moment and not ” can I see your Insurance and have you seen the damage?”

Murielle by now had had an attack of the vapours and Jenny was using her old nursing skills and kept asking her to drop her head between her knees to save from fainting.  Not an easy feat when you have the steering wheel to negotiate before your head can drop neatly through your knees.  Still Jenny managed it with coaxing and pressure, although I did wonder if Murielle’s head would ever have the same flexibility again……

I looked at LM.  He sighed… ” I’m off to bed.  Let them sort it out” and with that he turned and shut the front door with a very determined hand.

  • To be continued…..( after clearing it with the Lawyers for Libel!)

 

 

Security Forces and American Propaganda

Comments 23 Standard

I did say that the Unaccompanied Minor was tricky.  And she is!  It didn’t take her very long to show her spots – stripes and probably even her knickers if she carries on the way she is.  As I am having to go away in January I need someone ( reliable) to look after the house.  I cant leave it and the animals in the car of those males who currently reside here. ( Aladene and Mohamed and on occasions, Number 3 son!)  The last time I went away, I left Aladene and Mohamed in charge.  That was a huge faux pas on my part and I lived to regret it.

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Shebah Dog.  Please don’t lock my Dog Flap any more..

 

For some bizarre reason ( probably fear of being broken into) they locked the dog flap so Shebah Dog couldn’t get out.  She was so distressed at not being able to use the garden that she broke through the dog flap.  Hence for the remainder of my time away, she had to sleep in the dining room at night to keep warm and the kitchen was freezing cold due to the 2 foot square hole where the Dog Flap used to be. Why it didn’t occur to them to block it up or get a new one is beyond me, especially as they seem to have Amazon on permanent speed dial, or the equivalent thereof.   No longer did Mohamed have to worry about Buggerlars ( as he pronounces them) because you could just put your hand through the broken dog flap and turn the key in the back door and walk in.  Added to that I had, in some very weak moment, offered to look after Bruno whilst Tomasso was away in Rome during Christmas, and so it would mean taking care of Shebah Dog and another highly strung one, whose manner is so unusual and unpredictable that he should not be looked after by anyone under 25 years old.  A plan needed to be formed.

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Bruno.  Our Christmas Guest

 

Anyway, I digress.  

So I asked Number 2 husband if he would mind coming over and House Sitting whilst I am away.  He doesn’t normally mind as he gives him a chance to do something new and catch up with old Buddies.  Yes, I know, I am very kind allowing him to pop over and crash here when he needs an escape.   I had written about him before when he appeared about a year ago and caused a bit of an upset with Husband Number 3 and Mary.

https://looneybitch.wordpress.com/2015/11/16/she-just-needs-managing/

But as I need him now, I am happy to swallow my pride and let him back in…temporarily. I haven’t actually seen Mary since the incident last year and so the way things are going I should be able to permanently eliminate The Unaccompanied Minor in a matter of days. She has become more of a pain that I could describe and a lot of sucking of teeth has gone on both professionally and socially for some time now. She needs to “GO!”

For some reason she seems to think that Husband Number 2 is a rich Russian Oligarch rather than an Ex Pat living out the last of his days at the Yacht Club in Minsk with a wife thirty years younger .  He is guaranteed to either smoke or drink himself to death and when I asked him why he stayed there in the unending cold he replied, quite simply, that he was still free to smoke where he will.

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Husband Number Two.  A life affair with women and tobacco

 

So the Unaccompanied Minor has said she would be happy to come over and help from time to time which means she has her eye on another man to fall under her spell. I have lost track of the amount of men who she has left in her wake and I see Husband Number Two not being any different.

Aladene and Mohammed aren’t overly pleased and were hoping for the house to themselves but I cant trust them because if I leave them alone, then their whole daily schedule goes to pot.  They used to think it was absolutely fine to go to bed at 3 in the morning and get up about mid-day.  I told them they were not in the Gobi Desert anymore and whilst in Rome ( or Shoreham by Sea to be exact) they would go to bed at a sensible time and get up by 08.00am. for Flight School  Of course Mohamed being somewhat of a “smartarse” told me that the Gobi Desert was actually in Mongolia and China and the nearest one to them was the Sahara.  I replied that I didn’t need a lesson in Geography and was actually only making a point, to which he replied ” is that the last one of the day you will make?”

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Take your glasses over Mohammed. Its 10pm at night!

 

Talking of the two boys I asked if they would be joining us for Christmas Lunch or going home.  Flight School closes for 2 weeks and they often try to get home to see their family.  Mohammed is dreadfully homesick and wants to visit his girlfriend.  It would appear that he was engaged at 18 to some girl he had met twice and who lives in Benghazi.  As Mohammed lives in Sirte, you can work out how often they get to see each other even if the route is along the picturesque coastal route. ( He flies into Tunis and then drives over the border )  Aladene of course seems to be living under the radar, having had his passport confiscated by Lunar House but at the same time, they wont allow him to leave. Its been like that now for over three years.  His day to day life, however, is spent very much at liberty so I don’t think he is under the beady eye of MI5 and in fact has already applied there for a job in the Arabic Section.  Watch this space….

Talking of MI5, it would appear they are looking for Persian speakers and Farhad ( my sobbing partner) has also decided to apply.

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A life long supporter of The Shah

 

He thinks its another way of overthrowing the Ayatollah and bringing back the Shah.  When I said that the Shah had been dead ( and buried) for many years and he knew that     ” very well” he smiled and said it was part of American propaganda and  once we had removed the ISIL threat, the Shah would be back on his throne and Persia would return to the Old Days.

Another person who really shouldn’t be holding his breath between now and then….although I do agree that life for ordinary people was probably a lot less restricted then, than now.

Number Two has text me to say he has just crossed over the Polish Border and will be in England, soon.  This will be interesting as it would appear he is just over 1 month earlier than I require him. I try to call him back but his phone is switched off.  Its a nuisance because I would have asked him to turn around and go back home.  Because he is such a heavy smoker he always drives from Minsk to us because he says he can continue to smoke.  He also says he enjoys the drive and can contemplate the world. For a guy who has never read anything heavier than the Daily Express, I guess you could say that was something of an oxymoron!  Oh well, I will just lay another place for lunch on Christmas Day.

STOP PRESS!!  Just received a text from Aladene.  It goes like this…..

” Thank you Mrs for the invitation to Christmas Day lunch.  When is it?”

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Aladene, a very special person!

 

If he didn’t have such an angelic face, I would slaughter him!