For months, I have been harping on about learning to surf. I have always loved the water, and when I moved to what I lovingly refer to as “this Godforsaken country,” learning to surf was one of my primary motivators. The fact that when I arrived here I headed straight for Victorian dairy farming land, where very few people surf and the weather is crap, demonstrates exactly how much research or consideration I gave this entire trip.
I harped on about surfing so much that for Christmas both my wife and my parents bought me surfing lessons. My wife also…
“Your recipe wasn’t clear enough,” my wife says. “It’s not my recipe!” I shout.
My wife and I are cooking dinner together. This is a fairly uncommon affair because the kitchen is very, very small and a leak in the washing machine means the floor is almost always has a puddle to be navigated.
We were not supposed to be cooking dinner together, just like we weren’t supposed to make breakfast together this morning. It has been an especially unwieldy day, food-wise. …
My wife stands and watches as a cockroach runs under the washing machine. “I saw that,” I tell him. “You should have killed it!”
My wife is out at snooker. Whilst he’s away, I do some of the wifely things, to prove I am Good Like That. I wash the dishes and put the laundry in the dryer. I wipe down the sides, although mostly I let the big bits fall to the floor. Floors are strictly my wife’s chore. Even I won’t go that far, unless forced.
I stamp the life out of a couple of cockroaches to pass…
We are young and fit and barely hungover. How hard can it be?
With a single phone call, two friends of my wife and I are awarded a job in Tasmania. They are leaving the following weekend. The group has often discussed a walk to the top of a nearby mountain, but never quite found time to complete it. Allegedly, stalking 500 metres up sheer rock together will be good fun. We would all like to tick climbing the mountain off the bucket list.
It is decided we will go the next day. My wife and I gallantly race down…
Who needs reality TV when you can watch reality (live, from Melbourne)?
Like cricket, I can take or leave tennis, much to my wife’s sorrow. More than the players, my interest is in the ball-kids, with their strange, stiff-backed poses like a cockroach caught in the fridge light. I hear they get paid in uniforms, which seems faintly ungenerous.
“Look,” I say to my wife, “They’re conversing. That’s highly illegal. I just looked it up.”
“You’re almost out of chocolate,” my wife says sadly, sprawled on the bed. “There’re only four pieces left.” …
My wife is many things to me: best friend, coastguard-caller, and alternative shark bait, to start with just a few
My wife is driving me to the beach for my daily swim. Back in December, when I was doing my annual take on whether anything needed changing in my life, I decided that swimming every day would be an excellent New Year’s resolution. I would benefit from being outside every day; from guaranteeing myself a small amount of gentle exercise; apparently, cold water is good for you. Some people in this country even claim the water is sometimes warm! …
Galleries, museums and adult scooters: what more could you want from a holiday?
Leaving the house before caffeine has never been my preference; as such, dragging myself out for breakfast has always been a painful operation.
When I wake in our 4-person wide bed at the hotel, I am very well-rested. The air-conditioning was worth it — all of us slept under duvets last night, despite it being 25° outside. “It feels even cooler, knowing we’re contributing to the heat outside,” I tell Steve. However, because I am still on bakery time and have usually had several coffees by now…
My wife is enthusiastic. I quell it immediately
My wife and I are driving to our holiday destination. We are alternating between shouting at tailgaters, reading out Tim Dowling columns and chortling, and listening to a podcast about the Russian influence on the US elections.
“I would like to know our elevation,” announces my wife.
I look it up. “700 metres,” I say.
“Fuck yes!” he shouts, banging the steering wheel. “Doesn’t it feel good to be right!? Remember when I said it was 700 metres?”
“No,” I say. “When did you say that?”
“Like, an hour and a half…
My wife and I are going on holiday this weekend. What to do with our pet plants?
My wife and I are going on holiday to the ACT this weekend. This has raised a problem: what to do with our pet plants.
The weekend is forecast to be a stifling 40°C. Our tomato and strawberries do love the sun, but not that much sun, especially without anyone to water them. I would leave them in the trusty hands of my boss, who has a flourishing garden at the front of the bakery, but the reason we are going away is…
And tactical I am
“Are you coming to play snooker with me, then?” my wife asks, apropos of nothing. He is lying prostrate on the bed, watching the cricket.
“Is that what you’d like is it?”
“Yes.” Outside is supposedly a sunny summer’s day, but you wouldn’t know it because the curtains are closed to prevent reflections on the telly.
“Why don’t we go later, when it’s dark?”
“Steve and Chandler are over for dinner later.”
“Oh yes. Why is there a plate of sliced bread in the fridge?” Our new flat is more of a studio, so that we…