So there I was. I’d been down in the jungle, slashing and burning since about 9.30am. The fire was about 6 feet tall and just added to the ambient temperature which was about 28 degrees. I was covered in scratches, my boots were full of wood chippings from the tree cutting and my face was dripping with sweat. Indeed my polo shirt was soaked through with sweat and my hair was matted with a combination of even more sweat and wood shavings (I was cutting branches above my head). I reeked of a weird combination of smoke, petrol (from the chainsaw), exhaust fumes (also from the chainsaw) and that unmistakably French odour – sweat!
I was so knackered when I got back to the house I could barely take my boots off but I persevered and wandered through to the terrace where I usually disrobed and jumped into the pool to achieve both an instant bath and blessed cooling relief. And there, lying on a sun-lounger, half-naked was my missus.
She was reclining back in the full sun with her Gucci sunglasses protecting her eyes, a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on her perfectly coiffured blonde hair and no bikini top (aaagh!). Her latest romantic novel was lying on its side and her perfectly pedicured feet, with the latest shade of nail varnish were placed in that sort of model pose where they fit perfectly together.
And so I said …… ‘Darling, I’ve worked so, so hard this morning. Look at me – I’m soaked in sweat and smell like a council incinerator. I’m scratched all over and I’m itching like mad. I’m just going to strip off here and jump in the pool’.
‘Oh poor darling’, she said without even looking at me. ‘Before you do, could you just get me another glass of Chardonnay’.
I will refrain from telling you my response.
The photo is one of J I took when she was reclining with her clothes on!
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