ANOTHER birthday has passed, yet life’s little annoyances continue.
Mam’s card this year had a Lamborghini on it. Nana bettered it with one showing a water-coloured golfer.
Inspired choice considering I’m not eight-years-old and have no interest in sports cars or golf. It’s the thought that counts, I lied.
Big sister – remember this is she who is now rejecting all things materialistic after her Buddhism course – is planning to give me a dead man’s video camera.
‘Virtually brand new,’ she over assured me. I suspect she’s tried to sell it already on eBay but hasn’t, because she can’t find the charger.
I was also given two sets of after shave balm, which’ll come in really handy with my beard.
I also got some moisturiser to go at the back of the bathroom cabinet with all the other little moisturisers I don’t use.
I remember being offered men’s moisturiser in a department store by a painted lady.
“You can use it as part of your skin care and grooming regime,’ she cooed, dabbing my cheeks with her finger.
My ‘skincare and grooming regime’ starts and stops with a wet flannel.
The car key fob has also started ignoring me. It now needs pressing very hard three times before it unlocks.
A classic annoyance recently was a question from the other half.
“Do you want me to buy the meat from the butcher’s?” she asked. “No, why don’t we get it from the bike shop this week?” I replied.
I was deeply concentrating on something else at the time which was incredibly important and all-consuming to me but I can’t recall what it was now.
Boiled eggs annoy me when they pretend they’re done on the inside.
Few things grate like that regular phone bill addressed to “Mr Butfer.”
Then being called “Mr Butfer” when I ring up to tell them to change it.
Then hearing them say at the end: “Is that all we can be doing to be helping you with today, Mr Butfer?,” as I coldly put down the receiver.