They always say that men, unlike women, are incapable of multi-tasking. They (whoever “they” are) clearly haven’t met Mr B.
Take today, an example if ever there was one, of his skill at tackling more than one task at a time. On the TV, three great sporting events. The Tour de France. The Open Golf. The Second Test Match against Australia. Is he flustered and worried about
keeping track of all three at the same time? Not at all, he is in his element. It’s written all over his face: Life just doesn’t get better than this.
The sweltering weather is a great help to him in that I am too hot to come up with Alternative Plans for the day. Instead I have been sitting in the cool of the lounge alongside him, doors wide open to welcome the sun, catching up with all the tasks
that are clamouring for attention. The Minutes from Monday morning's Bowls Committee Meeting had to be tidied up and sent for approval. The Diary Dates page for the church magazine had to be written (I’m working on September’s Diary
Dates which gives me the horrible feeling that the year is running away with me. Slow down, I say.) Plus there are four more editions of the Worthing Gazette from September 1916 to be analysed as part of the Great War Project.
There was even some ironing to be done – unfortunately I had already ironed all the easy items, like the pillow cases, but had left myself with several pairs of trousers. I kept taking little
breaks from the ironing and reading a chapter (or two, or four) of the latest book loaned me by the Eldest of the Darling Daughters. In this way it took me all afternoon to iron seven pairs of trousers though I did finish one book and start another while
I was about it.
But I digress (although digression is a key element of the Daily Blog, don’t you think?) I was telling you about Mr B and his ability to
multi-task – at least when it comes to watching televised sport. I don’t know how he does it but somehow, with the help of the TV remote control forever at his eager fingertips, he manages to keep on top of everything that is going on, whether
at Lords, at Muirfield or out on a mountain trail somewhere in the Land of Snails and Frog’s Legs.
Occasionally I stop whatever I am doing and ask him how
things are going - I think it is wifely to show interest from time to time - to which he replies, with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice, that he is upset at the way we are pulverising Australia just at the moment. I watch a bit of the golf with him,
in the spirit of solidarity, and manage to stop myself making comments on the more colourful trousers sported by the golfers. Mr B hates it when I do that. But, honestly, have you seen some of them? Rupert the Bear and Babar the Elephant come to mind. I ask
a few intelligent questions about the Tour de France – like, who are the guys in the yellow helmets and where is Chris Froome hiding away? He answers them as if teaching a particularly difficult pupil.
Suddenly everything seems to be flashing at top speed in front of my very eyes. Has the heat finally got to me, I find myself wondering? But, no, Mr B has finally let me in to the secret of how he multi-tasks. At the same
time as watching the golf in real time he is recording the cycling and the cricket. Every so often he then fast forwards the recorded sports so gathering all the information he needs in a fraction of the time. He can always slow to normal time when a wicket
falls or a six is scored – or, presumably, if someone falls off his bike.