Coat&;#063;&;#063;&;#063;&;#063; (Untitled)

Untitled

My husband is not a bad man, he has a limp now from a football accident
three years ago, we're still waiting on the insurance money. We run a
firm of painter and decorators, we maybe have ten or twenty men working
for us. I work as a decorator too. It drives my man crazy but what does
he want me to do all day, stay at home and get fat, mind you I'm
getting fat already. I weighed myself last Thursday in the chemist,
they have one of those old, penny-weigh machines, I'm six pounds over
weight. My Terry says I should stop having a full breakfast every
morning at first break, but you know yourself after an hour or so of
work there is nothing like a fry-up, he'd never know anyway, he's never
properly worked in his life, I mean how much of an appetite can you
work up in an hour working in the office. He is such a jealous man, he
is convinced I'm having an affair with everyone. I'm not I've never
even considered it, I love my Terry, I just wish he'd relax. Mind you
he'd go crazy if he ever found out what some of the lads at work say.
We've got a young German lad working for us, he doesn't speak much
English bless him, he just says silly things like 'toadstool' or 'up
the junction' he'll be there painting a window or rubbing down a door
and he'll just scream them out at the top of his voice. Strange, but
then again he is German. We've got the main contract for the painting
of the hospital down the town, last week we were painting the corridor
outside the pathology department. You should have smelt the smell, it
was dreadful, terrible, probably the worst smell I have ever smelt. We
have this one old guy working for us we call him Bilbo, 'cause at
break-time he smokes a pipe and falls asleep, he has this real crazy
moustache and a tendency to waffle. He is not a bad bloke really. I
went to have a perm last Thursday, the girl Shelly was halfway through
cutting when she stopped and asked me to step into the back office.
'I'm sorry Mrs Gibbons you have got lice' she had said. I nearly died
of embarrassment she did too, the poor young thing was nearly crying.
Luckily she had a treatment shampoo for it there. I had to sit there in
the back with this smelly shampoo on my head for twenty minutes. I
finally got my perm only for it to fall out on Tuesday. But what
puzzles me is where the hell did the lice come from, I've checked my
husbands head...nothing. That German lad is always scratching his head,
and his balls for that matter. He calls me 'alte Schlampe', God knows
why, I'll look it up one day I suppose. I met my husband at a disco,
it's a library now. I still remember how he looked in his purple flairs
and his long sideburns, he was such a good dancer and he had all the
women after him as well, he was so romantic then too. These days
romance is dead, I'm lucky if I get a smile in the morning let alone a
kiss. Twenty years we have been together and it seems like only
yesterday when we got married, and what a bad day that was, his mother
and my mother both had on the same dress and earrings, then Terry's
sister Sharon got drunk and got on stage with the band and showed
everyone her knickers, which were dirty. Then my brother Ian got drunk
and head-butted the vicar for trying to smooch with his wife Karen, to
a slow song that the band was playing, apparently somebody had put some
of that funny smoke into the vicars pipe when he wasn't looking. At the
end of the night he left with Terry's sister Sharon and a swollen nose.
And if that wasn't enough when we got to the hotel for our first night
of legal nookie Terry had taken speed all day and couldn't get it hard.
He just kept reading the congratulation cards over and over again, I
just fell asleep, I had drunk far too much champagne. Weddings are okay
just as long as they are not your own. I had to go for a smear test
last month and when the doctor was down there fiddling away, I
accidentally broke wind-farted, I could have died, I wanted the ground
to open up and swallow me. The doctor was quite cool about it, he said
that it happens to a lot of women, 'cause of nerves and stuff I
suppose, lucky it didn't smell hey. I brought a pair of shoes from the
market a couple of weeks ago, and when I got them back to the house
some of the leather stitching had come undone. The next morning I took
them back and the man behind the counter wouldn't give me my money
back. That was it, images of my dead mother came flooding back and of
what she would have done in this situation. A young couple were looking
at a pair of running shoes so I shouted to them 'don't buy anything
from here all of his shoes are shit'. Well my Terry turned turquoise,
then red and so did the fat man behind the market stall. The young
couple walked off. I then told the fat-man that if he didn't give me my
money back I'd frighten every one of his customer's away. He called me
an old dragon as he gave me my thirty-six-pounds and ninety-nine pence
back. We then went and got a strawberry ice-cream and sat by the
merry-go-round, then this cheeky seven-year-old, on one of the plastic
horses spat in the face of my Terry. Kids these days, I'm glad I don't
have any. And of course Terry blamed me for it all. He went and played
golf that afternoon and in the evening he went to the pub. I'd made
shepherd's pie as well, his favourite. He's very moody my Terry always
has been, the smallest of things can put him in a mood for the day,
like yesterday morning I accidentally set fire to the cat while I was
making toast, don't ask me how it happened I don't know, all I saw was
the cat jumping through the air on fire and landing on the breakfast
table, porridge, milk and coffee everywhere, Terry quickly patted her
out and she scarpered into the living room. That was it...a terrible
mood, he is still in a mood now, I mean it was an accident I didn't do
it on purpose, I like the cat, but she should learn to go outside when
she needs a shit, I mean fifty-eight quid it cost us to have that
catflap installed. Anyway, maybe time I got my coat, I'm having my perm
re-done at eleven.