Yup – it’s the week where I castigate myself. Leave myself wide open to universal ridicule and horrify all those people who thought I was well adjusted and quite sensible. I’m an idiot. There’s no getting away from it. When I think of all the stupid things I’ve done I just want to go somewhere quiet and lie down for several months to see if my brain can sort itself out. And the problem is that the number of stupid things I do seem to be rising on a logarithmic scale.
Idiot Number 1 – the first week I was in France J and I went into the local bar for lunch. J had to go to the bank for something, but before she left me I asked her the French word for a light. Looking at me quizzically, she said ‘lumiere’ and dashed off. I then started wandering around the bar asking people for a lightbulb for my cigarette. Needless to say, the bar was in stitches. A light for a cigarette in France is ‘un feu’ – a fire!
Idiot Number 2 – more recently, in fact within the last 2 weeks I’ve proved to be a class 1 dope. When I bought my Alfa Romeo six years ago, it had a slight tear in its plastic rear windscreen. Having visited various garages etc, I was left with the view that it would be better to fit a complete new soft-top costing around £700! My roof was in fine nick (apart from the windscreen) so I left it and over the 6 years it got worse and worse and eventually just caved in. A couple of weeks ago I had to close the top because of a shower of rain when I was driving, so upon reaching home I looked up the problem on the internet and lo and behold, there’s a zip and you simply unzip the window and take it out! It was finally fixed last week for a tenner and to think I’ve been running about for six years with a taped up window, through which I could see nothing!
Idiot Number 3 – two weeks ago when J was away, I threw some clothes in the washing machine, switched it on, noticed that the digital read-out wasn’t working but pressed a few buttons anyway and off it went. When I was hanging the clothes out I was aghast – they’d all shrunk, in particular my favourite pair of cotton shorts. Given the seriousness of the situation I did not do any more washes just in case the same thing happened – the problem was that the kids were hunting around for clean clothes to wear, particularly last week when they returned to school after the summer break. Guy was retrieving boxer shorts from the linen basket and Kitty was hunting around looking for semi-clean knickers. When J returned from her trip, I told her what had happened and she just laughed – the clothes I’d been hanging out were Guy’s, not mine – he’s a 29 waist and I’m a …… well let’s just say I’m quite a bit bigger! Wot a dope!
On a general (idiocy) note, I always seem to get caught in the garden hose when I turn it on. I always seem to drop my glasses into the pool when I’m cleaning it. I take things which appear not to be working apart only to find I’ve not actually switched them on properly!
Is there any hope or should J start to look for a Care Home (maison de retraite in France) for me?
No comments:
Post a Comment