Mr B decides we need to visit Iceland.
Not as in the country, you understand, though after the Icelandic football team's showing in the World Cup, I feel quite warm towards
the island race. It was that strange booming noise the supporters made to cheer their team on which I appreciated, something completely unique (though other teams were overly keen, I seem to remember, to adopt it afterwards.) Mr B reminds me that Iceland beat
England in the aforesaid World Cup which means I am being disloyal, not to mention unpatriotic, to feel warmth towards the Chilly People.
Which is to digress, of course, digression being part of the Daily
Blog's raison d'être. To start at the very beginning (a very good place to start, as Maria sang in The Sound of Music when trying to teach her young charges their Do, Re, Mi) Mr B suggested we scoot down to the Goring Road shops where he is convinced
he will be able to find a gastronomic feast for today's dinner. When I say we will scoot, I mean Mr B will scoot ahead of me on his trusty mobility scooter while I will huff and puff along in his wake, listening - and largely ignoring - his exhortations to
me to "Keep up! Keep up!"
I am, nevertheless, more than pleased with Mr B's resolve, as I have been wanting to make this trip to the Goring Road shops ever since a new coffee shop opened there. I didn't tell
Mr B that this was my reason because he would have complained that I am Always Thinking of M Stomach. Which is true but a trifle rich, given his own reason for wanting to make the Long Trek.
Yes, it is a bit
of a trek - a good half hour's trot - but then this will be excellent exercise for me and exercise is definitely something I need. We therefore set out in good spirits. It's not easy to chat as we go, on account of my huffing and puffing and Mr B hollering:
"I can't hear you!" every time I gasp out that (i) the nursery equipment we donated is on display in the window of the Samaritans charity shop; (ii) the advertising hoardings are being removed from the new housing development in the former Sixth Form College
site; and (iii) the Post Office has now become a WHSmith Local store. Okay, it's not a exactly scintillating conversation I grant you - but I'm doing my best between huffs and puffs.
I am a little saddened
that Mr B feels the need to explore the delights of Iceland's freezer compartments because it seems to imply that my valiant attempts to put good, wholesome food before him each day, cooked by my Own Fair Hand are somehow missing the mark. I tell myself it's
nothing personal which makes me feel a little better about my deficiencies in the Exotic Culinary Arts Department. I still blame the grammar school I attended where I had to choose between the regular sciences and domestic science - as a result of which the
only dishes I ever learnt to cook were baked stuffed apples and cheesey potatoes. Neither of which I have ever cooked since. It isn't, I admit, a good excuse given that we are Never Too Old To Learn.
as it may (and, yes, indeed it may) Mr B managed to find several Icelandic delicacies to supplement my wholesome, if boring, fare so we eventually repaired to the coffee shop where I ordered us each a toasted tea cake to accompany our coffee. We deserved a
treat, I told Mr B, after all our exertions. He insisted I take the bus home, while he scooted back alone. I guess he was looking forward to a peaceful scoot without anyone huffing and puffing behind him, making inane comments about inconsequential matters.
Talking inconsequential matters, regular readers will be delighted to learn that, just a matter of minutes after posting yesterday's blog, there came a ring on the door bell, heralding the arrival of three Trick and
Treaters. I think they were a little surprised at how very pleased I was to see them. I pretended to be scared of the ghostly one in the middle, at which his companions went to great pains to reassure me. I think they were afraid I might keel over with shock.
Apparently the Middle of the Darling Daughters had a constant stream of ghoulish visitors tripping up her garden path - but then she had the added attraction of Young Faris, dressed as Count Dracula and The Twinkles
as two Witchy Woos to meet and greet.
Mr B and I just can't compete...