After watching Lewis Hamilton throw away some useful points at the Japanese Grand Prix, it was down to the club for an afternoon of windsurfing and a further failed attempt to catch sea creatures from a SUP.
Pleasantly knackered, I am dragged down to Big C Festival by she who must be obeyed, who needs to buy some extra gym shorts to support her keep fit and get thinner campaign; a campaign that was announced some weeks ago but appears to have stalled, the latest excuse reason being that she needs more shorts.
Dinner is to be Japanese, and I am enjoying my Sushi set when she attacks my Miso soup with her chopsticks and steals all the tofu. I let her finish the raid before declaring that the tofu is my favourite bit (it isn’t).
Well, tofu is better for women than it is for men, she says, pathetically trying to justify the theft
Why?
It’s good for our ovals?
Ovals?
Yes, our ovals.
You don’t have ovals.
Yes we do, it’s our eggs, our ovals.
Ah, ovaries, but on balance I prefer ovals. Matches the balls equivalent in the male gender.