The Rev Jack's Diary
Created | Updated Nov 10, 2005
Marriage
Marriage, in my humble opinion, lasts as only as long as the “white goods” last! This is around 3 years before divorce rears its head, the need for a new fridge, cooker, washing machine, something like that and its enough to turn a young girls head towards divorcing one and marring another man, as so to get the most up to date white goods. So I tend to always get worried around that time or when some fridge dies and goes to fridge heaven, I reach for the plastic followed by the car keys very quickly.
Shopping for these items, I find really hard, I think personally I would like to pass kidney stones again rather than going to the local shopping mall’s electrical shop with my missus, spend the next 3 hours looking at something that’s designed to keep food cool, dispense little cubes of stiff water out of a hole in the front or something that has the “retro look” coloured like a light lime green “tardis” stood in your kitchen, but woman have a gene, a very special gene, that allows them to see how this fridge “interacts” with a kitchen! “a shaker style” just what the 
is a “shaker style” OK! I’ll not go there!
Us blokes just can’t be a$$ed about this, all we need is something that keeps the beer cold and has a light inside that comes on when you open it, so when your drunk you can do a three minute stand-up comic turn in front of it while you get the next beer, and while I’m on the subject, chopping boards, ever since the invention of the TV Chef, they use thick wooden chopping boards, my missus went out and got one, never used it yet, “Don’t use that one, it’s the one I have for show!” She says. Strange things are women, at the best of times! Like the fact “they” and that’s a term of endearment, special things they only use when “guests” are in the house, I have only once used the glasses we had off “her” mother for our tenth year of being together, without guests. The row raged on for at least, well it’s really never stopped, I only have to look at the place where there kept, only to have “There only to be used for guests, remember” fired at me by my beloved, and the fact I used one to hold turpentine, while I was painting is still giving me cold sweats to this day, I also make sure I give that glass to the “mother” when she over to stay, dear soul that she is!
Another festering boil waiting to be lanced is the thing called Christmas, the end of year blood bath, which reminds me there over to “us” this year, its just three weeks of hard work, due in part of all the family members that we have to accommodate, because they come from all over the place, and we have a big house, due to the birth of our nipper a year ago (that drags everyone out of the woodwork to see her) and also the “mother-in-law” now “granny Sue” one of my better nicknames for the old trout, coming when ever she wants, so then Christmases past I’ll endeavor to give to a small sousing of malt vinegar that is our Christmas, firstly the tree’s (there’s always two, one for the living room @4 meters and one @1 meter for the front porch) the living room one is cut really low to the ground, as so to stop the “trout” sleeping under it when she’s been at the sherry, moving right along to the open fire, now you may not know what a dangerous social landmine a open fire really is, I’ll explain, as soon as the “guests” see an open fire, because they live with central heating the first question is “I bet that’s dirty and dusty” I respond “yes it is and its your job to help keep it clean” giggles all round at this point, then you get “You would be better off with some radiators especially with a young nipper, safer than a fire” I respond “We like an open fire, you can burn the evidence” more giggles but ever so slightly forced, then the last one “Just how old is the fire place” I respond with “it’s the new one, the last one was faulty and it burned the house down, around 1612, I believe” you tend to get a look at this point and then the words “when? 1612? Wow” then you say “Yeah nearly 4.15 in new money” really forced giggles follow and then they always ask to put a log in the fire, of course you allow them to place a log on the fire, but the damage is done, your into a conversation with them, and at Christmas too so for the next day or so you have a sort of shadow following you around asking questions about this and that, till you ask them to help you clean out the fireplace and then you will lose them, there nowhere to be seen, Oh they put the logs on and say inane stuff like “oooOOOooo that’s nice and pretty, really warm too, it always makes a Christmas, Christmas” but the fact of the matter is, anything like work, washing up, cooking on a AGA or cleaning the fire out is beneath them as there suddenly “guests” again in your house.
Then the Christmas day mother/daughter spat which is over nothing, the last one is still rumbling on from 2 years ago (a dirty spoon) I think that its something bred into mother/daughter relationships, talking of witch (correct spelling there) I’ll hide the sherry and gin this year, I don’t want a reenactment of her operation at the dinning room table, well veracious veins and the sight of too much cellulite and stocking tops while your trying to carve, in my opinion puts you off the roast goose and then there’s the singing too, which I feel is too much for a man to take at Christmas!
Boxing Day arrives with a thick head and a release of methane gas, this contributes at least 2% more global warming, due to the sprouts, and beer consumed on the previous day. The queuing for the bog is of course mandatory as is the lack of paper, so you are happy to escape the house and rellies, head off towards the local common to walk the dog, passing the pub on the way out and nipping in the pub on the way back (just to settle your stomach, of course) there meeting your mates doing the same thing as you as their rellies are making their lives hell for the duration of the holiday, just why the bloody hell do we put up with it, answer me that one! Christ! I’m off down the pub!
RJR
