Saturday 20 June 2009

Entertaining Andy

Today marks the start of Andy's holiday week. Well, it will be when he comes home from doing a Saturday morning shift. It's only his second week's holiday since before Christmas and I intend that he shall not be giving work a second thought.

This morning, he was awake at 5.30. So was I, but during the summer this is the norm for me. I am failing to be fooled by the black-out blind recently installed in the bedroom - all it does is make me think the weather is a bit grim when, in truth, when the curtains are drawn, I am met with blazing sunshine.
'It's no good!' says Andy, suddenly leaping out of bed. 'I've got to look up something that's been bothering me.'
'What's that?' I say. 'Tell me, I might know.'
'What island was Icarus born on?' says Andy, one leg in and one leg out and wobbling perilously with tiredness. (Was it Icarus? Or Odysseus? Why do all Greek myth names sound the same? Why can't they be called Basil and Dave?)
'Ithaka,' I said, which was either an inspired memory recall or a complete shot in the dark, I haven't yet worked out which yet. I, personally, like to think that Odysseus/Icarus founded Ibiza and had a nightclub named Helios filled with hostesses called Athena.
'ITHAKA! That's it!' yells Andy, and flomps back into bed.
'I'll make a cup of tea,' I say. I think, he's worrying about Greek mythology. Should I call a doctor?

Downstairs, whilst waiting for the water jug to do its filtering, I go into the garden and do chicken duties. I think, 'I'll do watering duties whilst I'm out here,' then wish I hadn't because the legs of my jim-jams get soaked through via wild hose pipe shenanagins and I have to dry them with the hair dryer whilst the tea is brewing.
'I need to stop Andy thinking about work this week,' I say out loud.
'Is she talking to us?' says Pandora.
'No, she is talking to herself again,' says Tybalt. 'But she will tell people that she is talking to us. We are what are called 'insanity scapegoats'.
'Ooooooh,' squeals Pandora, 'I've always wanted to be a goat,' and she does some goat-like prancing whilst Tybalt stares resignedly at the ceiling wondering when the tiny weirdo cat is going home.

It was bad enough last night, this worrying about work thing. Andy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
'I'm not tired now,' he said, where one hour earlier he had been struggling to stay awake. It can't be the telly, I think. We'd been watching 'Doc Martin' which is hardly high action, brain frizzing stuff. I like it because it is light, entertaining wind-down, feel-good TV like 'The Darling Buds of May'. (I'm also rather fond of Martin Clunes who was my second choice of hubby after Andy.)

'You're thinking about work, aren't you?' I say.
'No,' says Andy.
'Aren't you???' I persist.
'Yes,' says Andy.
'Tell me,' I say. 'And I'll sort it out.'
'I have to write the practice protocols for treating dogs with heart conditions,' says Andy.

Well, as you know I am a writer!
'Simple pimple,' I say. 'Here is my protocol.'

1)If your dog has a slow heartbeat, put it in a cage with a cat and that will liven it up.
2) If your dog has a fast heartbeat...

'...remove the cat from the cage?' interrupts Andy.
'Don't interrupt,' I say. 'I am writing an important veterinary protocol.'
'Soz,' says Andy. 'Do carry on.'

3) If you have to lie on the floor to hear your dog's heartbeat, it is either lying down too, or a chihuahua
4)If you can't hear a heartbeat, your dog is dead.

'There,' I say. 'Job done.' And I smile because I am happy that I've lightened Andy's work load, if only in a small way.
'If you need any more protocols writing, let me know,' I say. 'It's not unlike writing department policies at school. I wrote some GREAT department policies when I was teaching.'
'I'll bet you did,' says Andy.
'My department self-evaluation form, or SEF, as us pros call it, was stuff of legends and fiction,' I say.
'Hush now,' says Andy.

By the time I get back upstairs with the tea and still damp jim-jam bottoms I have made a mental list entitled 'Things I Need To Keep Andy Entertained This Week, Thus Preventing Him From Thinking About Work.' Or TINTKAETWTPHFTAW'. (I might need to work on the title - even the acronym doesn't work very well.)

Here is the list:
1) all food beginning with 'ch' - chocolate, chips, chicken, cheese, chipolatas, chilli
2) DVD box sets of Doctor Who, Hustle, Seinfeld, Buffy the Slapper and The Sky At Night
3) A variety of flour with which to make a myriad selection of bread - Andy has already informed me he is going to work his way through the River Cottage Bread Book this week
4) A pair of clown trousers
5) A funny wig
6) A treadmill for comedy impersonations of Ronnie Corbett falling over in Peter Kaye's version of 'Amarillo'
7) A musical score of the entire works of Oscar and Hammerstein
8) A big sign saying 'STOP WORRYING ABOUT WORK!' writ large in purple crayon

Wish me luck!!

3 comments:

  1. good luck!! We will manage fine without him, he worries too much! you may not have to resort to pain aversion therapy, just lots of the elderflower champagne should do it!! just keep to corks pointing in the right direction

    ReplyDelete
  2. I feel I should add that whilst it is possible that I asked about Icarus, what I intended (and believed that I said) was to ask what island Odysseus came from.

    Now, you are very good at mind-reading, so I'm not surprised that if I did say Icarus when I meant Odysseus, you still got the answer right!

    But if you weren't reading my mind, then unfortunately, according to Wikipedia, Icarus came from Crete, or possibly from Athens depending on who you believe.

    I'll stop now...

    ReplyDelete
  3. Yes, just stop now, Andy, you pedant.

    It's still all Greek to me...

    xxx

    ReplyDelete

Thank you for visiting, reading and hopefully enjoying. I love receiving comments and will do my best to reply.