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Philippa just asked me to marry her.

The flowers worked.. and how!

Philippa called me thirty seconds after the flowers arrived.
Can dealing with women really be that simple?
She apologised and said she probably had over-reacted, but thanked me for being the one to offer an olive branch. I said “I just thought it was the right thing to do, and I wanted you to know that our love will survive any little mishaps along the way”
I thought that would sound better than “Ted told me to do it.”

It wasn’t an olive branch I sent her, by the way, it was a bouquet of roses.

So she’s coming over tonight and cooking ‘a special meal’
I still have no idea what the last 72 hours have been about, but I’m sure as shit glad they’re over.

RC 29-2-12

The better man?

I’ve ordered some flowers to be delivered to Philippa at work tomorrow. The card inside says “Sorry” even though I have no idea what I’m apologising for.
It’s Ted’s fault. We had a chat tonight. Well - he sat there quietly while I offloaded all my woes about it, then he said “Why don’t you send her some flowers?”
I said “Because right now I can’t stand the moody bitch. The last thing I want to do is be nice to her”
Ted said “Man up, Rory. Nothing’s changed about the way you feel. This is just a blip, and one of you has to be the grown-up and get over it first. Remind her what she means to you. Show her you still love her and that you’re not going to let this silly argument go on and cause more damage. And do it now, before something else gets said and things get worse and start to fester.”
I think he’s probably right.
And at thirty-five quid for a bouquet of flowers, he’d better be.

RC 28-2-12

The ongoing saga goes on..

I finally got a message back from Philippa. It arrived last night at 11.15 and said “I’m not ready to talk to you yet.”
What the Christing hell is that supposed to mean?
I don’t know what’s going on here, I really don’t. We had a lovely Valentine’s holiday, I took her to some gorgeous shops in Paris, and now a week later I’m an arsehole.
Next year I’m going to France on my own.

RC 28-2-12

Why even try?

I tried calling and texting Philippa today but I got no response. I swear I will never understand women as long as I live. Hannah noticed she hadn’t been here for a couple of days and said “What did you do this time?” I told her to leave me alone and stop being nosey (or words to that effect)
Bloody women.
I need to see Ted for advice. I didn’t see him in the end yesterday. I felt so rough when I got in from work that I just had some fruit juice and dry toast and went straight to bed. I might try and have a word tomorrow. He may not be the greatest example of a model husband, but at least he is always honest with me and calls it how he sees it. Maybe he can give me a clue as to how to deal with women who snap your head off like a lion when you haven’t really done anything wrong.

I went to work in the end. Ginger Graham wasn’t even there, the lazy sod, so I really needn’t have bothered.

RC 27-2-12

Rough Sunday

Work was a nightmare yesterday. I had a hangover and every time I walked past the bakery or deli counter the smell of cooking food was making me want to hurl. Normally I love the smell of chickens being cooked, but when you’ve got an 8-pack of Stella in your stomach that is trying to leap up into your throat it’s the worst smell you can imagine.
At one point Ginger Graham said “Are you ok? You look very pale” I just said I was feeling a bit rough and thought I might be getting a cold. “Well don’t push it” he said “If you think it might be a virus we’d rather you stayed at home”
So now I’m deciding whether to call him and say it’s flu, or go in. If I call in sick, at least he saw me looking rough yesterday so he won’t think I’m faking it. Plus, if I do go in today, doesn’t it make obvious that yesterday was just a hangover? I’m not due in until lunchtime anyway, so I’ll probably go and say I still feel a bit rough and earn some ‘martyr points.’ Graham’s big bugbear is managers who take lots of time off with minor ailments rather than go in and work, so I’ll go up even higher in his estimations.

RC 27-2-12

Blah...blah...women...blah...blah...

I’m a bit more drunk, but still not clear on what happened this morning. Why are relationships so difficult? Or at least - why are relationships THAT INVOLVE ME always so difficult? I’m not a bad person. Am I?
God, I’m drunk.
I considered going for a walk to clear my head, or calling Philippa up to chat about it, but in the end I went to the off licence and bought lots of alcohol and sat around all afternoon on the Wii.
Do I call her tomorrow?
Actually I’m working tomorrow, so I won’t have a chance to call her. Probably just as well really. I’ll distract myself with work, then see Ted in the evening and get his take on things.
Oh God, I’m working the early shift tomorrow, aren’t I?
I’d better go to bed……….

RC

Unfathomable

Philippa and I had a bit of an argument and she just stormed out.
I’m not sure what happened.
I made some silly little throw-away comment about her staying here all week and she just over-reacted.
I can’t remember exactly what I said but it was something like “Are you ever f***ing going home, or are you gonna keep eating my food for another week?”
What did I do that was so wrong?
Bloody women.

RC 25-2-12

Thursday Thought

Everytime I look at the TV listings for Friday night it makes me want to stab my own eyes out.

RC 23-2-12

Skins and suitcases

I had a drum lesson today. Yes, I’m still trying to ‘find myself’ musically. I haven’t been mentioning it much, as I seem to be progressing about as quickly as a snail making it’s way across some superglue. I may have to stop lessons soon anyway as I can’t really afford them after spending six years worth of wages on a holiday.
Ah, the holiday. It’s already feeling like something that happened ages ago and is starting to fade into memory.
The weird thing is that, after spending every second of a whole week together in France, you’d think we’d be looking forward to having some time apart in our own spaces. But Philippa hasn’t even been home yet. Maybe she can’t bear to be away from me. Or maybe she can’t face the pile of dirty clothes that need washing, and she’s hoping that the longer she stays here, the more likely it is that I’ll just do all her washing for her.
If that’s the case, I can guarantee you this will end in disappointment for her.

RC 22-2-12

A Mixed Bag

Some haiku about our holiday:

Seven days in France
And now I can understand
Why the French are loathed

Paris in Winter
Is even more depressing
Than a wet wedding

We flew by cheap flight
But the hotel was all right
(Though pricey as shite)

Airport baggage men
Lost my girlfriend’s travel bag
Then found it again

The Eiffel Tower
Looks like a bent coat hanger
Or a broken lamp

A little poem about our trip on the Thursday:

Saint-Omer
Makes beautiful beer
And we went there
Oh yeah!

And here’s a list of my ten favourite French words:

Saucissons
Panache
Blancmange
Mange-tout
Crepe
Pince-nez
Petit-dejeuner
Denouement
Vitrine
Enveloppe

RC 21-2-12

Le blog d'aujourd hui

We had shitloads of unpacking and washing to sort out yesterday, so obviously we spent the day with Ted and Beryl instead. It was nice to try some awful English supermarket wine after having that beautiful pricey French stuff all week.. Beryl was delighted to see us, but Ted has a cold so was in a bit of a mood. He cheered up a bit when I told him we’d seen a German tourist get hit by a motorbike on holiday.

I had to go back to work today, so spent most of my time daydreaming about our time in France. My favourite day was probably the Thursday. We went to the train station and just got on the next train that was due to depart. It took us to a place called Saint-Omer, which was a beautiful little town where everything is cooked in the locally-brewed beer. You can probably buy that beer in your chosen supermarket. We certainly have it in mine. I’ve never even noticed it before, but I’m definitely going to bring a case home with me tomorrow. In fact, by an amazing coincidence, some clumsy oaf on the management team accidentally ripped the packaging on a case this afternoon, so we can’t possibly put it on the shelves for the public to buy…..

RC 20-2-12

Bonjour, tout le monde!

Back in Norfolk, and back to the blog!
We had a nice time, thank you. Paris is lovely, if you like dirty cities full of rude French people.
Our hotel was mostly occupied by American businessmen and retired English couples, but the food was some of the most delicious I’ve ever eaten.
I’d like to say I’m refreshed and sunburnt but that wouldn’t be true. Most of the time it was bloody freezing. Thankfully the ice melted and the air warmed enough for us to venture out a few times. We took it easy though, as Philippa’s ankle was still pretty sore. I got in trouble for smiling while watching her limp around the Louvre.
We did lots of other things, but it was an intimate, romantic, personal trip so I’m not going to go into details for your benefit, you nosey bastards.
Let’s just say it was well worth the effort, and well worth the worry.
I now have to work every day for two years to get back the money it cost me..

RC 18-2-12

Finally... it's holiday eve

This time tomorrow we’ll be in Paris!

I can say that now because Philippa is asleep, and I’m going to make damn sure tomorrow that she doesn’t use a computer, mobile or iPhone until we’re on our way to the airport, so it’s not going to ruin the surprise. And having typed it, it feels like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The genie is out of the bottle, the cat is out of the bag, and any other appropriate phrases you may wish to consider. I’m even relaxed about it all now! I think I’ve spent so much time worrying about it and double-checking and fretting that I’ve just maxed out on stress and broken through it all and found a strange new position of emotional calm. It got to the point where I just couldn’t be bothered to be bothered about it anymore, and that’s led me to a place beyond the anxiety, to a place of belated excitement.

Valentine’s Day in Paris?
Yes you’re right - as an expression of my love it is exceedingly romantic.
And expensive.
Very, very expensive.

RC 10-2-12

Imminent departure

I had a horrible dream about our holiday last night. We got to the airport and I’d left my passport at home. Then we couldn’t find a taxi. Then the plane had frozen wings so we had to fly there by helicopter. Then we arrived with just our swimsuits, and I’d accidentally booked us in Alaska. Philippa sat there blue in an igloo saying “You’re a hopeless bastard Ches” and I woke up. It took me an hour, and a drink, to calm down and accept it was just a dream. The worst part about the whole thing was the fact that she’d called me ‘Ches’

I still keep checking my checklists. I have checklists reminding me to check all the checklists, and I keep checking where those checklists are. I’ve read and re-read the booking info so much it’s starting to look like an ancient manuscript. I’ve packed and un-packed and re-packed three times, and I’ve put my passport and credit card ‘somewhere safe’ thirty-seven times, and each time in a different location. Right now, they’re in the zip section of my flight bag. At least, I think they are. Or are they? Excuse me for a minute while I go and check…
The build-up to this holiday is going to kill me. Next year I’m going to plan a ‘staycation’ instead and we’ll just stay at home in bed for two weeks.

I have to rush to the loo now. These pre-holiday nerves are playing havoc with my bowels.

RC 9-2-12

3 days til holiday..

We had the worst Chinese takeaway ever last night. My Special Chicken Rice had one piece of chicken in it, and Philippa’s beef chow mein was lukewarm and had her running to the loo within an hour.
She’s a tense little ball of worry today. She’s worried that her injury might ruin our holiday. She’s worried that having an ankle sprain will increase her likelihood of contracting DVT. She’s also worried that - as I won’t tell her where we’re going - she’ll pack the wrong make-up and end up looking silly.
I told her not to worry her pretty little head about and to leave all the worrying to me; which is a stupid thing to say as the last thing I need is more encouragement to worry…

RC 8-2-12

My day in haiku

Drank lots of coffee;
Sat up all night watching sport;
And now I feel shit

Outside for a walk
Little bastards threw snowballs
And made my clothes wet

Staying up all night
And holiday panicking
Make Rory too tired

Supermarket called
Staff missing due to weather..
“Tough. I’m staying home.”

Early night for me
A good twelve hours sleep tonight
I’ll be right as rain

RC 6-2-12

Snow, sore and SuperBowl Sunday

I was starting to feel more relaxed about our holiday, but we had two inches of snow last night so now I’m worried that our flights might be cancelled..
Someone at work told me that your body reacts exactly the same way to excitement as it does to anxiety, and it’s how your mind interprets those signals that determines whether you get anxious or excited. I’ve never been a fan of amateur psychology, but maybe they’re right and I’m actually really excited about the holiday but my mind is playing tricks on me.
Either way, this time next week we’ll be there and hopefully I can chill out a bit and get on with it.

Philippa is a bit narked off about her ankle. Due to the nature of the injury, and the nature of her sport, it’ll be at least another month before she can play badminton again. So she’s moping around the house a bit, whining and trying not to put on weight. It’s like dating a limping Cheryl Cole. We’re off to Ted and Beryl’s later so she can drink lots of white wine and cheer up a bit.
I was hoping Ted might sit up with me tonight to watch the SuperBowl but he doesn’t want to “miss out on sleep watching gay man’s rugby.” Philippa offered to watch it with me but I don’t want to spend most of my time explaining the game to her, only for her to fall asleep at 2am and snore through the fourth quarter. So I’ll be on my own. Just me, lots of coffee, and a very large bag of supermarket salted peanuts. Perfect, in a way..

RC 5-2-12