Wednesday 3rd February 2010
Just thought I’d pop in and open a page for February while I’ve got the time.
After events of last week I’m thinking of changing my job description title from mere ‘Houseboy’ to ‘Houseboy Ninja Assassin.’ I managed to notch up two near fatalities and will endeavour to explain when I have more time. It was all a bit traumatic.
Penny and the Muppet are staying with us at the moment. They arrived a year ago last Friday and show no signs of shipping out. The weather hasn’t helped. We had another fall of snow on Saturday and though it didn’t hang around, conditions are still icy. Penny does most of the driving and she doesn’t like driving on icy roads, one of the reasons we haven’t seen her and Chas much over the winter period thus far (Jack Frost I love you)
Shane is still rather preoccupied. He’s here in body, but in a spiritual sense there is obviously a part of him that currently inhabits a different pasture. We had a good, if rather emotional, talk on Monday morning and as a result I feel more reassured that his remoteness isn’t because he has fallen out of love with me, not that I’m certain that he’s ever been one hundred percent in love with me, not the way he’s in love with Dick. Even Dick doesn’t know what’s on Shane’s mind, but he isn’t as fazed by it as I am. He accepts that when Shane is ready and if he so wishes he will talk about whatever is bothering him.
Darkness has suddenly fallen upon the land. Penny must be awake. I’d better make a start on her breakfast tray.
Thursday 11th February 2010
Penny and the Muppet finally departed for home last Friday morning. They were supposed to leave on Thursday but Penny was having a bad back day and decided to stay another night. I watched their car pull out of the drive and disappear down the avenue and then I went back into the house where, with quiet dignity, I spent several minutes leaping into the air clicking my heels together Dick Van Dyke style, while singing Chim Chiminee in a terrible Cockney accent. Yes, I was glad to see them go. It was a horrible visit. Still, at least the Muppet didn’t seem to harbour any hard feelings against me for having almost shuffled him off this mortal coil. I’ll try and write up the details later.
On the autobiog front I’m proud to say that I’ve published my 2007 diary. It was a lot of work, but I got a sense of achievement from focussing and finishing things I’d left hanging. Mind you I got my wrists slapped on more than one occasion for spending more time beavering away on the computer than beavering away at my household duties.
I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my back, it’s aching like hell. I did a bit of gardening this afternoon. It’s been a nice bright day and I thought I’d tidy things up a bit. I lifted a heavy ceramic planter and I think that’s what tweaked the muscle. I can’t wait for the men folk to come home so I can have a hot shower or bath and maybe a nice massage to help ease the pain.
Wednesday 17th February 2010
According to Shane last night’s dinner was not fit to be used as pig slops.
It wasn’t one of the best meals I’ve ever produced I must admit, but still, harsh words. I didn’t dish up shit for the sheer fun of it. There were mitigating circumstances. Shane however refused to accept them. He said it was my job to produce a decent evening meal, no excuses.
What happened was that Rob called me yesterday morning and asked if I fancied going out shopping with him. He’s got a family wedding to attend next month and he wanted to get something new to wear. I thought it might be fun and said yes and so he picked me up and off we set. We drove to Manchester because there are some nice shops there. Rob bought a Moschino jacket and some shirts and I tried on a rather cool pair of Armani bleached blue jeans that had slanted zips across the back pockets. They were expensive and my intention was to only try rather than buy, but my arse looked fantastic in them and I had to have them, so out came the plastic.
It was a nice day out and I enjoyed it. We duly headed for home. It was a long drive, but it wouldn’t have been a problem if Rob’s car engine hadn’t suddenly decided to overheat. We had to go at a crawl after that because the needle on the temperature gauge kept swinging towards the red and Rob had to keep pulling over and stopping to wait for the engine to cool down before setting off again.
By the time I finally got home the men folk were about due and I had to rush dinner preparations. I made a beef stew and it was a disaster. The meat was tougher than a gang of Hell’s Angels. It should have been cooked long and slow in the oven, not slung in a pan and all but fried before being drowned in water and boiled. I then used too much cornflour to thicken the gravy. It was like lumpy wallpaper paste. It was so gelatinous that it stuck to the base of the pan and scorched. In one of those moments of culinary panic I dashed in a dollop of HP sauce and some extra stock cubes in an effort to disguise the burnt flavour. It didn’t work. It was horrible and understandably Dick and Shane were not impressed.
I apologised and explained about being out with Rob and his car playing up and hence being later home than I’d planned. It cut no ice. In addition to rollicking me for the dreadful meal I’d produced, Shane rollicked me for taking a day off work without asking permission first and said he was going to dock it from my wages. I argued that he was being unfair, pointing out that I rarely took any real time off; even my weekends were spent working because I did the same jobs that I did during the week. He was adamant. I'm to lose a day’s pay. He said it would teach me to put respect and duty before personal pleasure. He also issued a warning: in future, substandard meals that fail to please will result in a good spanking for the chef.
I seem to be getting on his nerves again and it doesn’t take much to make him cast a critical eye in my direction. He really tore a strip off me last night. I felt like crying. It was like being back in the days when I was a mere employee. In fact that’s exactly how I felt when he’d done hauling me over the coals. I wasn’t a lover or a partner I was nothing more than an unsatisfactory and irritating employee. I’ll be getting a written warning next and then the sack. I hate this year already.
Sunday 21st February 2010
I was out pounding the pavements before it was even properly light this morning. I rather like that early morning feeling of being one of few instead of one of many. Everywhere was quiet and the roads were deserted. I could hear my own footsteps and listen to my roaming thoughts without them being drowned out by the sound of traffic. I thought about my mother, she’s been on my mind quite a bit lately, which given the time of year isn’t unusual. The shops are all currently displaying Mother’s Day cards and it brings home that I no longer have a mother. It’s also coming up to the anniversary of her death.
As well as mum or perhaps even because of her I also thought about Ray Gosling. Ray Gosling is a journalist who recently confessed to killing a former lover who was dying of AIDS. He said they had a pact that should one of them ever be in terrible pain with no hope of recovery then the other was to end their suffering. Just how true his story is, isn’t yet clear. Gosling made the confession in a low-key documentary programme he was making on the subject of aging and death. Apparently he’s always been something of a controversial figure and his late years have seen him fall on hard times, so how much of his claim is an attempt to regain some kind of public profile is open to debate, much like the controversial subject of euthanasia itself. He hasn’t named the lover he claimed to have mercy killed, apparently not even to the police who have since questioned him. He says the killing took place some years ago after a doctor had said no more could be done. Gosling picked up a pillow and claims he then smothered the man as he lay in his hospital bed.
Anyway, I started thinking about what it must be like to be in so much pain that you were willing to allow someone to kill you. This is just my personal opinion, but if it were me that was dying and in pain, I’d like to think that Dick and Shane were close by, holding my hands, touching me, kissing me and whispering into my ears so that my mind and final moments were filled with their comforting presence rather than having their hands holding a pillow over my face. I wouldn’t want them to have to carry the burden of such a memory either. My mum was in great pain during the last days of her illness, but I could never have ended her life, much as I wanted her pain to end. She even refused heavy medication, because she wanted to be as alert as she could be in those last precious minutes and seconds of time left to her.
I got home and was in process of making a pot of tea when Shane made an appearance in the kitchen. He grumbled about me being up so early on a Sunday morning, likening me to a hyperactive toddler. I apologised for disturbing him saying I’d tried to be quiet. He said that I obviously hadn’t tried hard enough. He’s being so uncompromising with me lately. Dick keeps telling me that it will pass and just to keep my head down and think of it as an aspect of training. Anyway, I made the tea and offered him a cup, which he accepted. We sat facing each other across the kitchen table and perhaps because he wasn’t saying anything and the morbid thoughts from my run in the cold morning air were still echoing around my mind I suddenly asked him what he thought about euthanasia. He raised his eyebrows and said, ‘why, are you thinking of killing me?’ I immediately retorted that the thought had crossed my mind once or twice over the preceding few days, and then I got tearful.
Pushing back his chair he patted his knee. To my relief he followed the action with a command for me to sit on it rather than bend over it. Never has a cuddle felt so good. He adopted a gentler tone and asked what had got me up so early. I couldn’t resist saying it was probably due to being sent to bed early for four nights in a row. There’s only so much sleeping a boy can do. He asked if I was complaining about my treatment and I confirmed that I was. He said ‘tough, I’m your Daddy and I’ll decide when your bedtime is.’ It’s hard to explain, but the way he said it made me feel totally happy. He gave me a smile that was like a benediction, another hug and then dragged me off to have a shower because he said he didn’t want to eat breakfast with someone who smelled like the inside of an old gym locker.
It’s been a good day all things considered. Leo came over for lunch and I was hardly even rude to him, not even when he commented on my flat Yorkshire puddings and offered advice as to how to mix a fail proof batter. I sweetly smiled and told him that his puddings had more chance of rising than mine did because he spouted enough hot air to make a zeppelin rise never mind a Yorkshire pudding. My puddings taste good and they’re always well risen when I take them out of the oven, but for some reason the contrary bastards fall flat before I can get them out of the tins and onto a serving dish.
Monday 22nd February 2010
I behaved like a complete wanker this afternoon. I got hold of the wrong end of the stick and was really insulting to someone. I feel terrible about it. I’m too embarrassed to impart the details. I’m considering confessing it to Shane and requesting that he give me a good spanking in order to appease my guilt, but knowing him he’ll oblige, so I’m keeping my mouth shut and hoping the guilt fades of its own accord. I did apologise to the person concerned and really they have to take some responsibility for the lack of communication skills that led me to getting hold of the wrong end of the stick. Oh well, I suppose we all behave like wankers at one time or another, or is just me?
It’s been snowing again here, though I don’t think it will last, it seems to be melting already. Dick was in grumpy mode this morning. He had a pre-work meeting with his accountants and had to be up earlier than usual. He hates anything to do with accountants and would have preferred to forget the appointment; only Shane wouldn’t let him and hounded him out of bed and downstairs. He then insisted on going through a checklist of things that needed to be said and done at the meeting. Dick’s temper got the better of him and he snarled, for God’s sake, Shane, can’t you stop fucking nagging…he then caught sight of the look that swept across Daddy’s face and hastily added in a much moderated tone, please, just for a minute, if you don’t mind. It was funny, but I didn’t dare smile. Richard was sternly warned to watch his manners.
Well, I’ve got dinner to see to. I’m cooking turkey breast steaks in a peppercorn sauce; hopefully it will meet with approval.
