Herself woke up this morning and demanded her mug of tea.
Now you have to understand that if you deny Herself her morning tea, it is enough to have a grizzly bear with a sore head cower and tremble behind a rock in fear. Morning tea is an essential morning requisite to wash down her first fag of the day, and to go without is a thousand times worse than Armageddon.
There was however a problem.
Having been woken by the postman at the ungodly hour of eight, and having been unable to go back to sleep, I had been up for some time and had attempted to make my own mug of tea. I had discovered to my disgust that the two cartons of milk in the fridge didn’t make the sloshy sound that milk cartons should make. I hesitantly tried pouring some milk from each and all I got from each was a sludge of sour milk. Fuck!
I don’t know what it is about milk. I always keep it in the fridge even in mid winter just in case. Somehow however it seems to have this impish sense of the weather and as soon as the frosts recede, it decides to go sour even though the temperature inside the fridge remains the same. Some people say that you can say that spring has arrived when your shoe can cover three daisy flowers on the lawn. Others say that spring has arrived when the birds start nesting. I say that spring has arrived when the fucking milk goes sour in the fridge.
Anyhows, I had just added a dash of cold water to my mug of tea and that made it palatable if not quite perfect.
But Herself wasn’t having any of this nonsense. Oh no. Tea has to have milk in it under some unwritten law dating back to Druidic times and she wasn’t going to tolerate anything in her tea except a dash of milk. I tried to appeal to her better nature that it would mean my dragging myself down to the shop, but then I remembered she doesn’t have one. Fuck!
So there was no alternative. I had to trolley down to the village whether I liked it or not.
I decided that if it was mild enough for the milk to go sour it was mild enough to go down to the village wearing just a shirt and I wouldn’t bother with a jumper or a coat. Another sign of spring is when I don’t bother with jumpers or coats so all was in order.
I got some funny looks in the shop.
Maybe I should have remembered to wear a pair of trousers as well?