I’m just back from a trip to Skobieville.
Now Skobieville is a pretty depressing place at the best of times, but on a very wet, windy, grey Winter’s day it is little short of grim. The only thing about seeing the place on a very wet day is there aren’t so many unemployed skobies hanging around, and the place looks almost tidy [if you ignore all the empty beer cans and chip wrappings blowing in the gutters].
While I was there, I thought it would be an idea to get Herself something for Christmas.
She is not an easy person to buy for that that is putting it mildly. She has just about everything she needs. Some blokes buy their missus clothing, but I steer clear of that trap. Buying clothes for a woman is a chore that is heavily laced with minefields. Anyhow, she has two full sets of clothing so she can wear one lot while the other is in the wash. What more would she want?
Last year I bought her a heater for her shed. Was she grateful? Was she, hell! The year before I got her a pair of steel capped boots so she would be more comfortable working in the garden. Still no gratitude.
After a lot of shopping around without doing any actual shopping, I decided that she was too damned difficult to buy for. In the end I bought her a packet of fags which in retrospect is damned generous of me. Have you seen the price of fags in Ireland? It is a bloody generous present, if you ask me.
I wonder what she is getting me?
I hope it’s something really expensive!