There are many reasons why I love she who must be obeyed. She is kind, considerate, cute, fun and intelligent; to name just a few of her attributes. But there are days when the intelligence is thrown out the window and she moves into crazy panic mode. Yesterday was such a day.
Her auntie, together with German husband have come to stay in Pattaya for a few days. No problem with that, I have not been required to socialise, although a dinner is planned. This will no doubt be a pleasant enough experience, provided I can stop myself from starting a “my dad kicked your dad’s ass in the war” conversation with the husband. (To be honest, he probably didn’t. According to my mother, the only ass my dad was involved with was an Italian hooker with whom he spent most of the war; in a tent in the Egyptian desert. There was a horse involved too, which my father insisted lived outside the tent, but my mother, when she was really pissed with him, insisted spent more time inside the tent than would be considered normal in a non-bestial relationship).
I digress, Auntie and German hubbie are no problem. She who must be obeyed had decided it might be a good idea to lend them our bikes so they could cycle around, be assaulted by soi dogs and catch rabies, although she did not put it like that. Trouble is, our bikes have lain dormant in the condo basement car park for more than a year. They would need a good cleaning, oiling and adjusting before being ridden again. I decided the best plan was to agree it was a good idea to lend out the bikes, point out the maintenance issue, and then shut up. Hopefully she who must be obeyed would drop the plan.
She did, until yesterday morning when she suddenly decided that the bikes had to made ready for Auntie to ride immediately, or preferably sooner. I was not sure what prompted the need, but it was urgent and logic was being dispensed with. She called to tell me that she had arranged for our condo maid to prepare the bikes for action. Our maid has problems washing a plate properly, I doubted she could prep a bike.
What is she going to do, I asked?
Take the bikes to a bike shop to have the tyres pumped up.
How will she get them there given that she has no transport and the nearest shop is kilometres away?
-silence-
Where will she get the oil to maintain the chain?
-silence-
She can’t unlock a door without breaking something. How will she adjust the gears?
-silence-
Not thought through, beyond deciding there was an immediate need and finding someone to throw some money at who would undoubtedly render the bikes beyond further repair. There was only one way to calm her down, I would have to do it myself.
So I spent a couple of hours yesterday, cleaning, oiling, pumping, adjusting; so that when she who must be obeyed arrived home I was a sweaty, oily, dirty mess of a man with two quite clean and entirely functional bicycles.
Ready for auntie, I announced, and did a little flourish with my greasy arms.
Ah. She looked embarrassed
Ah?
I just called auntie and she told me she had had a knee operation recently so she can’t cycle.
Ah indeed.
Never mind, the bikes did need cleaning and it had been mildly therapeutic getting my hands dirty again. But I was hungry. So we went to Pan Pan.
We don’t go very often. Their pizzas are unspectacular and best avoided unless you want a sausage encrusted Frisbee. But their cakes are gooooood. So after something that looked like ravioli but was called something else, and a couple of glasses of wine; we went home with an expresso cake for me and a tiramisu cake for her. Mine went down nicely with a glass of Sambuca enhanced with three coffee beans (four spoils it, two is just not enough). It was only after there was no more cake to consume that I remembered that their expresso cake should actually called caffeine cake. The heart rate soars and you can forget about sleep for at least a week.
And so it was that the pretty young girl that is not me could be seen hanging around the Facebook poker tables until around 0300. Today I feel wrecked, think I will go for a cycle to keep awake.
Gratuitous photo moment. There was a Ferrari meet outside Pan Pan a couple of years ago. For some reason I thought a pizza restaurant sign reflected in the rear window of a Ferrari would be appropriate. Your mileage may vary.
Comments 🔗
2009-04-24| Billy saysI know your father to have passed on to the great tent in the sky, so, just in case the horse thing is genetically controlled, here are some gift ideas for SWMBO the next time she is short of notions for what to give the man who has everything (rather than Penicillin)
http://www.horse-lover-gift-ideas-central.com/gifts_for_men.html
2009-04-25| Spike saysOh my god, is that why I like to photograph polo…..?
2009-04-26| wenthworth sayslove or Stockholm syndrome?
2009-04-26| Spike saysHow would I know?
2009-04-26| wenthworth saysGood point.
2009-06-26| Dirk saysI found your blog on google and read a few of your other posts. I just added you to my Google News Reader. Keep up the good work. Look forward to reading more from you in the future.
2009-06-28| Billy saysIf it were work then he wouldnt do it - lazy bugger