“Do you know what Shirley, I’ve just inadvertently and tragically cut off my penis with the bread knife and I think you ought to call the emergency services as a matter of some urgency?”
She’s heard my voice yet not taken in a single word. Shirley is on the IPAD thing playing Scrabble. She plays up to 25 opponents across the globe concurrently. She generally wins as she knows tons of words. The thing is it irks me to be ignored so I try again.
“You know that neighbour’s dog up the road that keeps barking and getting on your nerves. Well I’ve just been over to its house with a pitch fork and the intention to despatch it once and for all but the bloody thing bit me. A passing postman told me it has rabies. I feel my mouth foaming up a bit. Should I call the quack?”
Same reaction! It’s like I don’t exist no less. Right this one will get her!
“Shirl, do you think polar bears have pubes?”
It’s plainly not working. Another try.
“Do you think a blind dyslexic reading a braille version of War & Peace might mistake it for the Argos catalogue?”
Is this progress I wonder? Another go!
“Shirl shall I clear the kitchen table of debris in order that we can have sex thereon?”
Right, the clincher!
“Shirley, your bum looks big in those jeans.”
That worked. She called me a bastard and beat me around the head with a rolled up copy of The Daily Mail – of all papers to choose from she had to use that one. She knows I hate it! After regaining some composure I ask, “So then you’re not ignoring me anymore?” Not to be out done she says, “Well you lock yourself away in that little study ‘blogging’ away all day ignoring me.” Point taken. Certainly I’m addicted to this new – to me any way – ‘blog’ thing. Also, it is true that what with composing ‘blogs;’ reading ‘blogs’ of those I follow and sharing comments I have to admit I have been ignoring Shirl lately. We agree a compromise and vow not to ignore each other. In essence the terms of the informal contract we have formulated is that I will only ‘blog’ at allotted times of the day during which Shirley will play Scrabble with her online chums. Harmony is restored! It is at this point she reminds me of the news bulletin from last week.
“Did you see that statistic in the papers where it said that using a sample of 1500 people it was established that the upsurge in the use of mobiles and tablets to access things like Twitter, Facebook and blogs has coincided with a significant reduction in the number of times couples have sex?”
It then dawned upon me that we, of late, had become one of those statistics! Given that sex is the only guaranteed pleasure there is I/we (even with me being 108 years old and she my ‘child bride at just 101) took the view that it might be best to clear the debris from the kitchen table – although in this instance it was because Shirl wanted to polish it. Still I have a cunning, wicked plan for later that has nothing to do with ‘blogs or Scrabble!