We all want an end to world hunger.

Grumpy was supposed to be meeting his boss this afternoon for coffee. They're fairly matey and the boss enjoys a bit of quality male-bonding time. Grumpy rang me while I was in town helping a friend pick out a new watch. Turns out the coffee had been cancelled and the male bonding is going to take place at some kind of bikini fashion parade tonight.

"I'm squirming already," said Grumpy.

Something tells me he'll be pleasantly surprised to realise he's enjoying himself.

Rrrrrrraggy?!?

I took our car in for a service last week. The service centre left a complimentary packet of mints in the centre console, stamped with the Subaru brand. Grumpy has appropriated the mints for his car. He calls them his Subi Snacks.

Like, wow, wipeout.

After a glorious day sitting in the sun, enjoying a long and leisurely lunch with Inge de Bruin, I toddled off to the rugby last night with a few mates from uni. Although the entire stadium was a sea of yellow, we managed to be sitting in the one section filled with Yarpies. It was less than desirable.

Grumpy was also at the game but he was being corporately wined and dined and enjoyed the spectacle while seated between George Gregan and Adam Gilchrist.

When I got home last night I asked him how it was.

"Well, Greges is no fan of Zimbo Bob and Gilly's got really big ears."

Fancy that!

A Nice Cup of Tea and a Hatchet

Wow! Waking up in the morning and knowing you've got your broadband back is like being a kid and it's your birthday!!

Or something.

Grumpy went out with a mate last night and got, as The Cramps would say, "messed up". I'm waiting for him to awaken from his beauty sleep so we can head off to Cottesloe or Leederville - you know, anywhere but where we live for goodness' sake - for a coffee.

When we go to Cottesloe I sometimes pop into the Collins Booksellers for a browse while Grumpy waits (im)patiently. I'll just whisper to you that he's not a reader. Shhh.

I like the Collins shop because they have an interesting little selection of books and someone in there has taken the time to break down some of the sections into further delightful categories, indicated by blue laminated labels on the shelves:

- Harold Bloom's Canon
- Soft-Boiled Shopping Noir
- Murder with a Lovely Historical Background
- Jaded Forensic Pathologists

...and my favourite, which I knew would please Grumpy no end:

- Genteel English Murders

Layover Over

Last night during the news a story aired about Casey Stoner's second Moto GP win. Grumpy nearly coughed his roast potatoes all over the crocheted blanket covering his knees. He had spied the sponsor's logo in the background and was keen for me to see it also. Once I'd spotted it, I had to agree it did look a little...ahem...untoward.

What Grumpy didn't notice, and which I feel adds a certain flavour to the whole scenario, is that this GP was held in Assen.

Made ya look, ya dirty chook.

Grumpy was chuckling. "I got a nibble, didn't I? Admit it, I got a nibble!"

-------------------------

We were cruising down to Rockingham for a coffee this afternoon (like the cuppla crazy kidz we are), listening to Lou Reed singing Busload of Faith: "The goodly-hearted made lampshades and soap."

I turned to him with the beginnings of a cough and a splutter on my lips when he said, "You know, I just don't get it. Why are the Jews so hung up on the Nazis?" He thought it was hilarious.

(We'll see how quickly his sense of humour kicks in when that laxative I slipped into my cappuccino takes effect. Any minute now.....)

Thanks Ever So...

...to k. for the pep talks over the past couple of days.

...to Grumpy, who said he'd make dinner for the next week or so. Sometime during the day today he realised he'd have to stay at work late. When I got home this afternoon he'd already been and gone, leaving me a gourmet roast chook from Romano's and a loaf of bread. That's all I need.

The First to Blink

Grumpy and The Antiquer took in a show last night. I warned Grumpy that afterwards The Antiquer would insist on repairing to a cafe for cake. No matter what the occasion, no matter how late the hour, no social interaction is complete for The A without cake. In fact sometimes when I'm home alone and he's called, he's offered to come over and watch TV with me: "I'll bring some cake."

So it came to pass that after the entertainment, Grumpy and The Antiquer found themselves in Leederville, snuggled up together at a cafe enjoying dessert.

Grumpy was telling me about it this morning and I sensed he'd found it all a trifle uncomfortable.

"Well," I said. "You would have been just like any other couple on their tentative first date."

"You're not wrong! And the way The Antiquer always has to stand so close to you, and stare straight into your eyes! The whole evening it's you shuffling back and him shuffling forward - I felt like I was trapped in some bizarre waltz."

That Antiquer, he's quite the needy thing.

I'm not angry; I'm just very disappointed.

Oh, by the way, thank you so much for the outpouring of concern from all my readers, worried about how k. and I were doing with our respective maladies. We're doing just fine, thanks for asking.

Criminy!

On Monday night when I was lying flat on the floor trying to decrickify* my back, Grumpy, who was lazing on the couch, actually asked how much longer it would be before dinner was ready. I was a touch hysterical and teary with pain on Tuesday arvo and my outraged rendition of this story to a friend left her believing that Grumpy had been standing over me demanding I get up and cook his dinner this instant. Not quite. But he might as well have been! The brute.

Grumpy just rang then to see how I was doing. I confirmed that I was feeling great, that I'd been able to sit for two straight hours at the computer and get some work done. My plan, I told him, was to take a couple more Nurofen Plus at about five o'clock to see me through this evening out at dinner with some friends of ours (take that whichever way you prefer). Grumpy then helpfully suggested that, by taking a total of eight tablets since 4pm Monday, I was rapidly sliding into the realm of addiction.

Well, well. Addiction, huh? The next time His Lordship stubs his toe on a blade of grass or something similar I think he can just bloody well go cold turkey. We'll see what his feelings are on over-the-counter medication then, shall we? Stay tuned, folks.



*Notice my expert handling of complex medical terminology.

Now I Can Read Some Blogs

This morning Grumpy queried whether, after only six weeks at uni, I felt that I now deserved to be on holidays for two weeks.

Methinks a certain someone is just the teensiest bit jealous.

Someone needs his beauty sleep.

I was woken up during the night by Grumpy leaping out of bed with a curse. He didn't answer me when I asked what was going on. I heard the front door open and then he reappeared, Pounce in his arms.

"She's been outside for five minutes and she's already brought you a bird*. So she can howl at you and you can snore at her and good luck to the pair of you!"

With that he dumped the cat on the bed and stomped off to the spare room. I hope he got a decent night's sleep: Pouncey and I sure did.



*Not an actual bird. When Pounce goes outside at night she trots off to parts unknown and collects these giant leaves which she deposits on the front door step with much fanfare.

The Sound of One Mind Thinking

hb: "So The Antiquer reckons that you could go from being a total lazy arse to running a marathon in twelve weeks."

Grumpy: "Really?"

hb: "Yeah. Pretty amazing."

Grumpy: "I suppose so. My question is: why would you want to?"

Suppose it's better than being bald.

In these more, ahem, abstemious times one of the things that has had to go is getting my hair coloured at the hair dresser.

("Hang the expense!" says a magnanimous Grumpy. "Who cares! What does it cost anyway? Fifty bucks?" They're wonderful at that age.)

So I've yet to replace the professional dye with something cheaper and as my natural hair colour emerges I've been somewhat taken aback to see it bringing along a whole heap of grey hairs. I find this a little confronting, if you will.

"Look!" I shrieked to Grumpy.

He looked. He shrugged. "Don't know what you're on about. There's only a few and they're all at the front."

"WHERE IT COUNTS!!!"

How Unfortunate

If ever the world needed proof that Grumpy is the walking embodiment of evil, then this is it. I was on the phone to Grumpy's mum, The Busy Walker, when he walked in the door, plonked himself on the couch and proceeded to make himself at home. The Busy Walker was trying to think of the name of a movie she'd seen and quite enjoyed.

"Was it called.....String of Pearls? Maybe?"

"Hmm, I don't know, "I replied. Then, before I could think (as is usually the way), I blurted out, "Oh I know. Was it The Pearl Necklace?"

From the couch came a startled gurgling noise, which completely put me off my game and I have to say that even The Busy Walker's voice had a certain tone when she told me no, she didn't think that was it. The mutual cringe hummed back and forth along the line.

Just to make Grumpy pay, I handed the phone over to him then and there so he could spend some much needed quality conversational time with his beloved mother.

Harumph!

Until He Reads My Blog

Lately I've had a real craving for Golden Roughs, and the chocolatey, coconuty little buggers can be very hard to come by. I had the feeling I'd seen them in our local supermarket so I called in there on the way home after another hard day's snorkelling. They had a huge box full so I scooped up quite the haul.

The weather's been mighty hot lately so I realised that I had twice the conundrum on my hand: protecting them from Grumpy's patented chocolate-seeking eyes and helping them beat the heat. Then I hit upon the solution - a cool part of the fridge that holds zero interest for a hungry Grumpy on the fossick:

He Never Stole Christmas

Grumpy, bless his cranky little heart, is really pleased that I've got this year away from work to do other things. He is truly happy for me. But I think sometimes the happiness is a little strained.

Like yesterday, for example, when I rang him in the middle of a hot day to tell him what a great snorkel I'd just had at Mettam's Pool.

It wasn't that he wasn't happy for me, I think it was just that I was so happy for myself.

He also thinks it should be the National Australia Bank Cup

Grumpy is doing a slow boil in front of the NAB Cup Western Derby listening to Glen Jakovich's commentary:

"Des Headland has been accredited with that goal.....which is what the Dockers recruited him for somewhat years ago."

According to Grumpy, "That idiot is a disgrace to South Coogee Primary School."

Anyway, I need to break the news to him that Miss Marple begins in 15 minutes. That should do his blood pressure the world of good.

And little lambs eat ivy

One of Grumpy's more difficult colleagues has come to the end of a long period of bachelordom and has got himself a girlfriend.

As we headed to the beach yesterday Grumpy informed me, "He's so much easier to get along with now that he's getting his greens."

"His greens? I think you mean his oats."

"No. Greens."

"I can assure you, my dear, that it's oats."

"Greens."

"Whatever. Both good for you. It's not like you'd be interested."

Always On

"It's 6 o'clock. Time to get up."

"I get up at 6.30 in my life."

"Have you loved them all?"

"I've loved them all."

All In Good Time

I forgot to mention that last week Grumpy turned 40. It was a hot day so after I got home I picked him up from his work and we went to the beach. Lolling in the cool water at Port Beach isn't too bad a way to spend your 40th birthday. Then we rolled into Fremantle for a delicious dinner at Falduzzi's.

On the downside, Pouncey did write a very unkind message in his birthday card. But you can't have everything.