Sunday, 22 November 2020

Notes On A Vasectomy

The worst thing about leaving this blog alone for so many years is the lost opportunity to keep you all updated on the state of Husband's balls. Not the varied shaped and sized ones that he likes to hit around a golf course or yank off some poor child in pursuit of a Try. Nope, no siree, I mean the actual balls, the ones that produce fertile swimming things that resulted in an ENORMOUS AMOUNT OF PAIN for me. Yup, those balls.

Older readers, oh loyal ones, will have followed the hilarious antics over our thirties as a vasectomy was contemplated. For you new readers I have been Generous and Organised and linked the three ball centred episodes at the bottom of this post so you can catch up. You're welcome.

 Anyway, it is a relieved and exhausted Millennium Housewife who gets to announce that he finally got them done, dramatically and not without a yelp, but he did it. God bless the ball surgeon.

It wasn't without its incidents. The trauma of having to Shave The Area began our day, with Husband asking if he could borrow my razors:

"Women's are softer" he wailed contemplating the pink handle and inflated price tag of my Gillette, "they've got a moisturising strip," which they have, and do moisturise the first ten centimetres of my legs perfectly.

There then followed an hour of scrape, scrape ouch as Husband attempted the tricky turns and twists rarely found on a chin or cheek and rendered himself bald in the place no-one should ever, ever, have to look at bald.

He walked out of the bathroom rather proudly, and surveyed himself in the mirror, Doomed from the get go, there they hung, like two bald sea urchins knocking together in a fisherman's net. He turned to clench each ginger-furred buttock in turn and flexed his arms, checking his biceps still worked. 

"Still male," he boomed to no one who was listening and sprayed himself with Dove For Men. He got dressed, more buoyant than bouffant which was pleasing.

As we left the house we passed Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head, standing along the drive in a row of black armbanded mourning. Pokey carried a set of large, inflatable scissors and Stu was dressed as a nurse. I think Bucket Head had misunderstood the brief and was waving two gay flags enthusiastically and shouting encouraging words. 

"Aright Pokes!" Yelled Husband, bravado abounding, "want an autograph?", Pokey attempted to push the scissors crotchwards and Husband leapt nimbly aside, managing a quick wave, much in the manner of a celebrity. It was actually quite impressive and he bounced into the car all puffed and proud.

This buoyancy lasted, ooh about the thirty minutes it took to drive to the ball lopping off clinic. Disappointingly the clinic was not as exciting as I make its sound. I had dreams you see dear Reader, that the ball clinic would be appropriately and elegantly appointed. A kind of advert if you will, for what goes on inside. Bricks and mortar shaped buttocks, scalpel shaped tiles anointing the roof, bandages for curtains and the hedges topiaried as flaccid, mournful penises. But no, it was boringly grey and square, the only excitement shown by the women, drinking champagne and toasting each other in a pop up tent on the lawn.

Millennium Housewife had a great time, those women were brilliant. I have definitely made two new friends; they tell great jokes, drink champagne and generally make a day of it. I was only sorry I hadn't bought a cake.

Husband emerged an hour and two bottles later, cheered drunkenly by Susan and Annie, my new friends. He drove us home (I'd had way too much champagne) gently, wincing around the corners.. 

It was like watching Twizzle come home from the vet all over again. Subdued and disorientated, Husband took himself to the sofa and spent the afternoon sitting on an inflatable with rugby and beer. 

"They all look so male" he whimpered, watching another scrum half do something rugbyish and getting himself up gingerly for another ball numbing beer. Credit where credit's due, he did manage the walk from sofa to beer fridge admirably well. It was slow though, and clumsy, like watching Lassie operate in a low oxygen environment.

So there he sat, de-balled and mournful, for about a week, head hung and vitality lost. Until that is Pokey visited, hinting darkly that they may be closing the pub down since revenue had plummeted. Ever the superhero Husband mustered a large sigh and stood himself up to save the local. Managing a slight spring in his step he charged down the road, carrying his inflatable, Lassie to the rescue. My hero.

 Catch up on the ball play here:  Firstly in the naive and optimistic To Snip or Not to Snip, followed closely by a failed New Year's resolution to finally get them chopped in  Cutting The Ties That Bind , and lastly the nail biter of an episode where you were left guessing whether the dog or Husband had finally succumbed to the scrape in New Balls Please. I know you were all delighted for Husband when (spoiler alert) it turned out that it was Twizzle who had sacrificed his tubes in service of population control.

Thursday, 19 November 2020

Things I Have Said To My Parents Today (Lockdown Special)

  • Hello?
  • Morning!
  • Mum?
  • It's me
  • Press the FaceTime button
  • The FaceTime button
  • Then we can see each other
  • Well done
  • Oh good lord
  • Put some clothes on
  • I don't care if it's as God intended
  • You didn't have to answer
  • I would have waited
  • Or called back
  • You don't need to get dad
  • Hi dad
  • Oh good lord
  • Put some clothes on
  • Can you at least sit down
  • Because I can see you
  • You're on the screen
  • My phone screen
  • Scratching
  • I can tell it's a rash
  • Turning your back doesn't mean I can't see
  • I am glad you've found your pants
  • They are nice yes
  • Perhaps you could put them on
  • Oh good lord
  • Mum doesn't need to help
  • I know your knee's stiff
  • Couldn't she put hers on first
  • I'm glad you've got a routine
  • I will be grateful when I'm old
  • I'll call you back

Wednesday, 18 November 2020

Books I Am Planning To Write (a Lockdown Special)

  • Lockdown 2020: Dating via zoom, a Kama Sutra special
  • Lockdown 2020: Zoom quizzes, and other ways to die slowly
  • Lockdown 2020 reasons to be drunk by midday
  • Lockdown 2020 And Spousal Murder: Why we need a change in the law Now
  • Lockdown 2020: Fat is the new thin
  • Lockdown 2020: Holidays in the rain, how to make it look fun for social media
  • Lockdown 2020: Hygiene lapses, who needs all their teeth?
  • Lockdown 2020: Hygiene Lapses #2, no one can smell you online
  • Lockdown 2020: Hygiene Lapses #3, turn your screen off before you pick your nose
  • Lockdown 2020: Essential Sign Language for You're on Mute (sign #1: I may murder you)

Tuesday, 21 May 2019

Things I have Said To My Husband Today

  • I'm sure you'll be fine
  • Hundreds of men get it done every day
  • Men just like you, yes
  • Every day
  • It's just a little op
  • You're not depriving the world
  • I'm sure we'll survive without your genes
  • You don't stand out
  • You're not a ginger marvel
  • You couldn't sell it for millions
  • I just don't think anyone would buy it
  • I did get it free
  • I am lucky, yes
  • And grateful
  • It is a good product
  • Millions of women won't be protesting
  • You're very welcome to freeze some
  • I really don't think so
  • I don't think the surgeon will be intimidated
  • Well she'll have seen it all before
  • Why wouldn't it be a she?
  • Surgeons are Shes and Hes
  • They are
  • She will be able to cope
  • It won't all be too much for her
  • She won't need a hand
  • Yes she'll be used to lifting heavy objects
  • I really don't think we need to warn her
  • I'm sure she's seen plenty of ginger foxes
  • Yes ones with biceps
  • Please stop demonstrating the biceps

Wednesday, 8 May 2019

Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

  • Yes, yes
  • It was a good wedding
  • Great party, yes
  • I did enjoy myself
  • Yes you were great
  • Life and soul of course
  • No, no
  • You were great
  • It's just
  • Well all that twerking
  • With dad
  • In mum's face
  • And mum joining in
  • And wiggling
  • And you all hugging
  • It is lovely that you bonded
  • I am happy that you like each other
  • Well
  • Did you have to wear dad's heels?
  • You have got lovely legs
  • Dad was jealous
  • You didn't rock the look
  • What?
  • I really don't think so
  • No shopping trips with dad
  • Tuesday, 30 April 2019

    How Husband met Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head.

    I think it’s high time we looked further into the deep and binding relationships that Husband forms. He’s choosy, choosing only three of the best male specimens that beer money can buy. Obviously I’m talking about Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head the Best Friends a Man Could Ask For, which are my sentiments exactly. 

    I would be disappointed in you all if you suspected in any way that Husband first met his dearest friends anywhere other than the pub. Because he did, quel surprise. Actually there was a tiny surprise in that Husband decided to try a different pub. This is like me trying a different bra, unheard of. The ones I know are comfy, familiar and serve things up on a tray. 

    So there we were, hesitating slightly at the entrance to this new territory, wondering whether the locals would welcome us, not sure whether we’d like it. We entered like any self respecting English couple; sideways, heads bowed enough to avoid eye contact but not enough to fall over something and Cause a Scene. We headed in the direction that our quick glances reassured us was the bar. 

    And there he was. There in all his glory, surrounded by a choice circle of chums, was Pokey; side on to us, standing sloppily near the bar, head tilted back, balancing a pork scratching on his top lip. This scene in its entirety would have been enough to get Husband hooked; you could see his heart beating out its special tune of man-love for this pork scratching balancing midget with a medallion round his neck. But being Pokey he went one better and flicked his head, and by result the scratching, into the air and caught it in his mouth. 

    Husband roared the kind of approval I’d hoped for at childbirth and marched across the pub floor to shake Pokey’s hand, simultaneously winking at the bar man for a beer and tapping his top lip to indicate a fresh supply of pork scratchings. English reserve forgotten in the height of this euphoria, Husband declared his love for Pokey in one sentence:

    “That, my man, deserves a drink”

    Which it did, obviously. Husband had come home. What more could you ask for than a salty meatskin snack, a new best friend, a pint and a wife to drive you home. Nothing dear readers, absolutely Nothing. 

    Except of course, like City Slickers Two, Pokey got better with a sequel. Just as Husband was about to present Pokey with a fresh challenge, a long, pale arm reached into the throng and placed, rather gracefully, a scratching on Pokey’s waiting, trembling lip. It had the touch of the lover about it, as Bucket Head loomed into sight. 

    “Ere we are Pokes” yelled Bucket Head, “three in a row”

    Pokey dutifully flicked and caught his scratching while Husband looked on, falling in love with every bead of perspiration on Pokey’s brow. Clutching his own bag of scratchings, eager to be the person to present Pokey with his next top lip challenge, he stepped forward uncertainly. 

    “here we go” said slightly self consciously, placing the snack on Pokey’s top lip, quivering at the excitement of it all. 

    Pokey paused, flicked, crunched. And history was made.

    Obviously being the observer of this instant crush filled me with glee. Honestly, glee. What else would I like in my life than another Husband, one whose hygiene rating scored below a rat’s scrotum. What else indeed. I probably should have stopped there, counted my blessings that there was only Pokey and adopted him immediately. This being the preventative measure of him being attached to any other male in the world who would follow him anywhere. 

    This was stupid of me obviously. There were three of them. 

    We had yet to be introduced to Stu, he’d been in the toilet looking for pound coins for the fruit machine. He came through to the bar, shoes sticking to the floor as he stuffed his way into the circle of friends. 

    “This” said Pokey throwing his arm round Husband’s neck, “is Stu”, Husband shook Stu’s hand as Bucket Head nodded wildly, affirming helpfully that this was, in fact, Stu. Fabulous.

    There they stood, three goons and Husband, the pork snatching crumbs on Pokey’s face glistening in the gloaming of the pub lighting; Stu wiping his pound coins on his t-shirt and Bucket Head patting Husband’s arm in wonder, as if he’d just won a pet cow.

    Husband looked at me for the first time since we’d arrived.

    “We’ve GOT to invite these guys back to ours” he said enthusiastically, “I can show them my mini putter”

    “Quite” I said, which in a pre-agreed ‘safe word’ discussion, Husband understood as no, not in a million years.

    “Brilliant” he said and patted Bucket Head on the shoulder,

    “Get your coats lads, you’ve pulled” he guffawed, delighted as Stu spat out his beer

    “I don’t think I’ve got room in the car” I said, “perhaps we could leave Pokey” (I am banking wildly here that no Pokey equals no Stu and Bucket Head).

    Husband looked askance at my lack of Quality Man detecting skills.
    “He’s the BEST ONE,” he boomed spilling beer froth up his nostril, forgetting that he was in booming distance of Bucket Head, who looked mournfully at his beer. He seemed resigned to appearing the lesser talented, Pokey being the Pork Scratching balancer and all, and Stu earning so much money from the toilets.

    Husband ushered the three of them in front of him like naughty children and shuffled them towards the door of the pub, out into the cold night air and the quiet of the night.

    “Phwoar” yelled Husband, doing that rub of the hands up and down the arms thing that people do to show they’re cold, “don’t worry” he said to Pokey, maternally, “it’ll be warm at home and you can be first to have a go on the putter.”

    Warmed with promises of putter play the four men marched into the night, towards a night, nay a lifetime, of guffawing, insults, beer, pork scratching catching and slightly sticky hands while playing the fruit machine.

    Dear readers, it was Love.

    Tuesday, 23 April 2019

    Things I have Said To My Parents Today

    • Hiya
    • Helloo
    • Helooooo?
    • Anyone in?
    • Oh hi dad
    • Dad?
    • Are you OK?
    • Oh good
    • No it's just
    • You look a bit weird
    • Sitting on your own
    • Behind the breakfast bar
    • Kind of strained
    • And sweaty
    • Oh good lord Jesus christ
    • Hi mum
    • I didn't see you down there
    • No, no
    • Please
    • Stay there
    • Don't get up
    • Oh Christ
    • Don't do that
    • On the Princess Diana tea towel
    • I'm just going to go
    • I'm not a prude
    • Or embarrassed
    • Crikey dad
    • Leave the buckle
    • At least until I'm gone
    • No it's fine
    • I'll see you later
    • Please remember to wash the tea towel

    Sunday, 21 April 2019

    House Guest

    So Isla turned fifteen, it has been Delight-ful, D.Light.Ful. Yes siree; so filled with light, and fun, and smiles, and glee and all round appreciation for the work and toil its has taken to get her to half of thirty. Oh Joy of Joy.

    In other news, sarcasm has arrived in our house. Isla bought her in like an old sweaty friend who you never really liked and you SWEAR you didn’t give your new address to but she’s turned up on your doorstep and is now taking up the biggest bit of the sofa and complaining that it’s cold.

    The kind that drinks your wine and wonders loudly why the bottle’s empty and eats the last twiglet while you’re uncorking the third bottle.

    The one who sleeps alone in the spare room and uses every single guest towel from the cupboard and opens the emergency mini toothbrush and Colgate set and the wrapped bit of soap and steals the tampons.

    The friend who eats crisps in the shower and can’t figure out why the drain’s blocked and stands there dripping on you while you poke it out with your index finger.

    That friend.

    So obviously we’re delighted that she’s come to stay.

    It’s a little galling that Isla is better acquainted with our visiting guest than us, I mean I’ve been practising for YEARS. I’m dead sarcastic, I know it doesn’t show or anything, but inside I’m thinking sarcastic things.

    The other day Isla was walking in boots that were unlaced and I pointed it out. Just nicely, you know, in the manner of a human being.

    ‘Uh thanks mum, like your laces are never undone”

    Which they have been in the past of course, and I didn’t trip over and break my head and have three months learning to count again because another human being pointed it out to me in the manner of a human being and I bent over and did them up. 

    Also, yesterday she boomed down the stairs:

    Where’s that shopping I left in the car?

    Did you bring it out of the car? I asked in a needing more information, mild mannered way


    Well then it’s still in the car, I said logically.

    This earned me a hair toss and a look that said your logic is old fashioned and out to get me, you dark overlord of the night. Lend me fifteen pounds to get over it.

    So it really is very very nice that we have a fifteen year old living in the house, and of course Husband, dog and eleven year old.  Very very nice indeed.

    Sunday, 14 April 2019

    Things I Have Said To My Mother Today

    • Oh hello
    • It's nice that you remembered
    • No no party, just a cake
    • Next Saturday
    • What would I like?
    • I don't really need presents
    • What do you mean oh good?
    • Have you nothing in mind?
    • You're what?
    • Say that slowly
    • How are you leaving your head to medical science?
    • For my birthday
    • I know I said I didn't really need presents
    • But for my birthday
    • I'm sure it will be very interesting
    • And full of useful information
    • You have kept it pristine
    • They will love your cake recipes 
    • You do have a lot of good ideas
    • I'm just not sure I want your head for my birthday
    • Unless it's imminent
    • JOKE
    • Honestly it was a joke
    • I am taking it seriously
    • You're right it's just like adopting a goat
    • Except this is your head
    • I'm sure they will have seen nothing quite like it
    • I'm glad you're excited

    Wednesday, 10 April 2019

    Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

    • Just remember what we talked about
    • I’m only reminding you
    • In case you forget
    • You promised to be nice 
    • Nice
    • As in say nice things, don’t insult My Mother
    • Because it’s her birthday
    • And they’ve agreed to come here for lunch
    • It is a big deal
    • They haven’t been here since you showed her that rude cucumber
    • The rude one
    • Yes the one you waggled
    • It was the way you waggled it
    • Well sort of up and down
    • And suggested lube
    • So it’s a big deal they’re coming
    • What special present
    • From you
    • Oh that’s SO nice
    • Thank you so much
    • It’s a what
    • A burqua?
    • Full face?
    • You can’t give My Mother a burqua for her birthday
    • It will not improve her looks
    • It won’t help you eat
    • I’m sorry about your nausea
    • You simply can’t
    • Dad won’t agree
    • What do you mean he went halves?