For blogs with less than 300 Followers

For blogs with less than 300 Followers
Thanks to Hestia's Larder for this delightful award.
(For Blogs with less than 300 Followers)

Friday, 29 June 2012

I've Been a Naughty Boy




I know I've been a naughty boy because my Beloved has told me so.

I was teaching a class in my computer lab when my mobile phone indicated I had a message (it plays a mournful "Flower of Scotland").  I have to keep my phone switched on in class just in case I get an urgent message about arranging a relief teacher.  (BTW, I say teaching, but seeing as it's the last day of term, we were just sitting and chatting, while some of our girls were strumming guitars)

It's bloody amazing what weird and wonderful illnesses strike down our teachers during a working day. 

Sick as a Dog

I've had colleagues go down with toothache, diarrhoea, earache, 'flu, piles, blindness (I kid you not.  The poor soul got an optical migraine which rendered her temporarily blind for a couple of hours) a sick dog (I don't mean the teacher WAS as sick as a dog, but he got an urgent message that his dog had taken poorly and he had to go home to comfort the poor thing. 

This last did trigger a response from one of our female colleagues ( I hope you're reading this Bay Tree) that she wouldn't be in the next day because she thought that her hamster had the sniffles.

Anyway I got a text message.

My initial reaction was fear.

My Beloved never phones me at work unless something catastrophic has happened, and as our lovely daughter in Scotland is now 5½ months pregnant a stab of sheer terror ripped through me when I saw who the message was from.

Muttering some sort of explanation to the class (Oh Shit!) I attempted to open the message.  My fingers were shaking so much I kept on hitting the wrong keys.

At last I got it open and read the text.

Ah.

At least it wasn't my daughter.  In fact it wasn't anything catastrophic, or at least I thought so.

Apparently the message was sent because my beloved (deliberate reduction from capitalisation here) was so shocked by what she had found that she JUST HAD to send me an urgent text.

What had she found?

my introduction to Whisky, age 5 months.
Was it the emergency bottle of whisky superglued to the garage ceiling?

No.

Was it the bill from Amazon for my latest ebook purchases? (She thinks I should just use the library and never buy books)

No.



Was it the collection of Playboys from the 1970s I had rescued from a second hand book store?

No.

Dear God In Heaven.  Had she stumbled across my blog on the Interwebthingy?

No.

It was apparently much, much worse than any of these scenarios.

Dear God, It's worse than I thought.  It's CHEESE
She had discovered an EMPTY PACKET OF CHEESE!!!

Going to bed last week, I had perused the contents of the fridge, looking for a sustaining snack (as most of us do) and had spotted a sliver of cheese left in the plastic wrapping of a ½kg block.  I had removed it from its lonely state, and had finished the remains in two bites.  I had thought I had stuffed the wrapper in my dressing gown pocket for later disposal, but it must have dropped out and fallen under the bed, where it had been discovered by my beloved this morning.

From her phrasing I understood that this crime was on a par with storing bottles of Nerve Gas or other Weapons of Mass Destruction under the bed, and that civilisation as we knew it was crumbling under the onslaught of these highly dangerous cheese packets.

I've learned my lesson.

I will grovel on my knees to my beloved this evening and utter heart felt moans of apology.

I will also make sure I dump the next lot of wrappers in the bin BEFORE I go to bed.

Of course I'm going to carry on having little snacks.  I may be a wimp, but I'm a bloke first.

Ah well, last hour of school, soon home to the delightful chill of the cryogenic greeting.

Isn't life just wonderful?

27 comments:

  1. Ha ha. I like that. The same thing happens to me when I surreptitiously scoff a muesli bar or a moro from the deep freeze. I put the incriminating wrapper in a pocket meaning to destroy it later but invariably forget and the Old Girl finds it and gives me a lecture.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sometimes I think that we want to get caught and be punished for it.

      Late night snacks are worth it though.

      Delete
  2. You will have to learn to hide things better...but then, are you not MAN? Master of all you see, Man the destroyer? MAN the hunter?
    Tell that woman the truth because she deserves that at least. Tell her that it's all her fault for not feeding you mans food, it's all her fault for not bringing you that sliver of cheese before bed....
    Her fault.
    Her fault.
    Her fault.
    Her fault.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Are you insane?

      Telling the truth hurts...me.

      Everyone else knows it's her fault, but to quote Sergeant Schulz; "I know notzing, I say notzing"

      Delete
    2. Ah, you've been married a long time.... You've had the MAN beaten out of you (nearly)

      Delete
    3. 34 bloody years.

      I'm still a bloke, sort of.
      I still drink beer.
      If I'm allowed.

      Delete
  3. Simple solution - you need a small fridge in the bedroom - see man logic gets them everytime ;-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Excellent idea.
      With only one flaw.

      If my beloved went balistic when she discovered an empty cheese wrapper, how do you think she'd eact to finding a fridge packed with beer, salami and pickles under the bed?

      I couldn't even begin to calculate the megatonnage.

      Delete
  4. Was it worth it . . . Did the "sliver" lead to more weird dreams?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm sorry to say that I don't really know. ALL my dreams are weird these days.

      Tasty cheese though.

      Delete
  5. OT, but I do hope that woman in the first picture never, ever, complains that men talk to her chest.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. OT??? Kindly explain if you have the time.

      I also hope she doesn't, but let's face it, with a chest like that and dressed like that, every blokes eyes are going to be drawn to them like a magnet. There is no choice, it's hardwired.

      Delete
  6. Strategy is key here. If all she has to bitch about is a cheese wrapper you've been tame much too long. Devise something she'll find that's so entirely anomalous and disgusting that a cheese wrapper gives her the giggles.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Already done Austan, she found the SECOND cheese packet last night.

      What can I say.

      I like cheese.

      Praise any available or existing diety that she didn't look in the bedside cabinet drawer, as I think I've still got an empty salami wrapper in there.

      Delete
  7. I started reading this as I was eating an illicit chicken leg. Thanks to your cheese related bollocking I've disposed of the evidence extra carefully.

    Scavenging of articles will now take place under a blanket or within inches of a bin. Wrappers will be disposed of pre-mastication and items which may rustle will be avoided.

    Sorry for your trouble, happy for the timely heads up.

    Dont forget to pack a book down he back of the trousers in case you get paddled.........

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm glad as ever that my pain helps others.

      Be careful of eating chicken legs under a blanket. They tend to leave yellow stains which might be misinterpreted.

      No I'm quite safe from any physical assault. In some ways I'd almost prefer it, but what I get is the "hurt look", "the sigh" and of course the worst of all, being told "Think of the children, be a good example"

      Delete
  8. You need to be sinning on a much larger scale so that these minor transgressions will pass without comment.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My dear late mother used to enjoy snacking on fruit while in bed reading before going to sleep.
      I used to think this odd, but hey it was fruit and healthy. Little did I know that she left her apple cores and banana skins under the bed. As I discovered one day when vacuuming the house for her. Uckk. I reckon that discovery was much worse thatn finidng cheese wrappers!

      So TSB start eating fruit snacks and leave the skins under the bed. Then see what Mrs Twisted has to say about that!

      Delete
    2. I've tried that Laoch, but if I go much larger, I'll be in the "Go Directly To Hell" range.

      Delete
  9. VG: Fruit has never been or will never be on my menu.

    ReplyDelete
  10. So you're not in trouble for eating the cheese, but for not disposing of the wrapper in an approved manner?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Correct Jen. I think she's worried that the debris will attract rats or wetas.

      Delete
  11. Im puzzled.Are you on a diet?Aren't you allowed cheese??
    I've just pulled 3 empty crisp packets from under our bed..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sorry for puzzling you, but I get a bit puzzled as well. According to the unwritten law of Chez TSB, I can eat anything I want as long as:
      a) It's fruit
      or
      b) It's healthy.
      or
      c) beloved doesn't get to know about it.
      Leaving food wrappings under the bed is seemingly the next thing to complete moral degeneracy.

      *Gasp* THREE crisp packets...you know of course that means you're going to burn in Hell?

      Delete
    2. Amateur! No wonder you got caught. I have a secret lolly and potato chip stash in the garage, hidden under a pile of uninviting spare computer parts. I hide the wrappers in the bottom of the new bin bag each week. And she wonders why I spend so much time in the shed.

      Delete
  12. My ring tone for my bride is "It's Tricky" by Run-DMC. Relevance to post? None!

    I took a day off to have my cat of 14 years put to sleep and my employer charged me a vacation day. What a hero.

    Now you must, MUST leave empty cheese packets all over the house. Oh, she'll laugh and laugh!

    ReplyDelete
  13. I read that Post and got it fine and informative. Please share more like that...
    Cmos battery

    ReplyDelete

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Site Meter