The House Husband

I joined Mirinda on the train this morning as far as Woking. My shoes have grown a hole in the sole so I needed to visit my favourite shop for a new pair. Given the rain, every time I wear the old ones, one foot gets squishily wet. I hate having to carry spare socks so figured new shoes were the best solution. And so I headed off for TK Maxx.

The old pair were ideal because they are quite wide in the foot, allowing for comfort during mild gout days – mild enough not to need the gout sandals, anyway – and so it was with some trepidation I set about trying to find a pair as good. And would you believe it! They had the very same shoes (just a different colour)!

Naturally, I snapped them up before they could disappear. As well as a couple of new shirts. My haul came to under £50 for the lot so I was very pleased. I just LOVE TK Maxx.

Back at home I set to mowing the lawn before the rain arrived. BBC had prophesied that it would hit us at about 4pm so I knew I had plenty of time but I also had some planting to do. The lawn was in desperate need of a trim after the rain of the last few days but the mower made short work of it and I settled down for lunch.

It was then up to the park with the poodles to check out the funfair which is presently setting up in the park. This happens every year. Lots of trucks invade the football pitch beside the castle, forming a circle like so many wagons defending against the Indians. In fact, looking back at my posts, it was exactly a year ago that they were here.

We chased a few dogs, ran away from others and then headed home. While taking a temporary diversion into Squirrel Tree Copse, Carmen had an FSI. She hasn’t done this for a while but today she found the mother lode.

I reckon there’s a communal fox toilet just behind the Squirrel Tree and the last fox that used it forgot to shut the door. Boy did she stink. Gaggingly smelly. Even Day-z walked at a distance from her. Of course, Carmen thought it was all great and walked with her head and tail held high. Stupid dog. And she hated the vigorous bath.

Having rid the house of the obnoxious odour of Carmen’s stupidity, I hit the garden, ready to plant up the horde from Saturday. Mirinda had placed them in their pre-ordained locations throughout the new bed so all I had to do was dig, manure, water and plonk them in. This I did while listening to Radio 4, watching the growing blackness starting to make itself known above the house.

I had two more to plant and it started. Big drips started hitting me. I heard the roofers next door down tools and vacate the scaffold as I rushed to finish the planting. The rain started in earnest and I quickly moved the radio and my camera into the shed before returning to finish, water streaming down my face.

The dogs were sitting on the sun lounger watching, ignoring the rain. Idiots. Anyway, I managed to finish and put all the tools away before rescuing the radio and my camera and heading inside. The rain still hasn’t stopped. This means I am unable to take a photo of the finished bed. Maybe tomorrow.

Here’s a picture of the Lightbox, the museum in Woking. I’ve yet to visit it. I would have today except it doesn’t open until 10:30 each day and I was catching a train home by then.

The Lightbox museum, Woking

I really hate wearing shoes and socks. When I was at Telewest, I usually had no shoes on under my desk. Granted I kept the socks on but more often than not, I was shoeless.

Today, on the train into work (it still sounds weird having been off work for so long), as usual, I slipped my shoes off. It just feels more comfortable. I’m amazed more people don’t do it.

At work, after getting myself comfortable in the Dome of Silence, I slipped them off, feeling free and easy. Well, my toes did from inside my socks, anyway!

Ok, I don’t like feet, never have, never will. Of all the fetishes in the world, this one is the weirdest, if you ask me. No-one has sexy feet. They are just ugly. If you don’t believe me, watch Kill Bill 2, just for the scene with Uma Thurman, generally considered a pretty sexy woman, trying to make her legs work after coming out the coma. Now they are some ugly feet she has! Actually I’m amazed they didn’t use a foot double.

I concede, they do a job, and generally they do it well but that’s it. I’m not going to willingly take something that’s been carrying a human being around all day, having been wrapped in some airless space, into my hand and kiss it. Not going to happen.

BUT…and that’s a big but…I hate shoes. You’d think with my revulsion-bordering-on-phobia for feet that I want them covered up all the time. No. Not at all. Over and above everything else is comfort. I love comfort and I hate shoes and socks.

But enough of me talking about shoes and socks…It’s off to Bath.

My wheelie bag and I set off from the Science Museum after work, eager for the delights of Bath. Paddington Station is just the other side of Hyde Park, which is just down the end of Exhibition Road, where the Science Museum is. I figured it would be a nice leisurely stroll after work. Halfway to the station in the morning I realised I’d forgotten my A-Z. I walked in the opposite direction and caught the tube three stops.

Paddington is a typical London mainline station. A bit of Victorian, a bit of modern (glass and steel), lots of people milling, High Street shops and takeaways and train indicators that never seem to change very fast. My train left at 5.30. All the other trains had platforms except mine. 5.10 no platform; 5.20 no platform. I had a seat booked but it didn’t bode well for anyone who didn’t. 5.25 and, finally, a platform. A collective groan went up as everyone realised it was the platform furthest away.

A mass migration, resembling an edge of panic stampede of wildebeest, started moving towards the far reaches of the station. From the station concourse the mob turned left towards the platform, immediately funnelling the numbers into a squishy crowd trying to get through three automatic ticket machines. Of course, my ticket wouldn’t work so I had to back up, annoying a few people, and show it to the non-automatic station guy who let me through the barrier.

I found my carriage and thence my seat. Ah, comfort. I had intended to use my Netbook but it was too crowded. I had ordered a table seat but with all four seats taken, there really wasn’t room for a laptop, no matter how small. So, instead, I read.

The train gradually emptied so that about halfway through the journey I had enough room to stretch my legs and had a fairly comfortable trip.

Weir

We visited Bath for a weekend in 2005, and, although it was five years ago, after walking a few hundred yards from the station, I recognised everything and, without aid of map or need to ask guidance, I walked straight to the hotel. It helped that we’re staying in the same hotel, the wonderful Villa Magdala.

Mirinda had already arrived. The receptionist said she’d only beaten me by about two minutes but after hearing how much transpired between the two, I think it was probably an hour before me.

After a chance for my feet to relax after the stress of a day in shoes and socks, we strolled up to the Abbey then had dinner in Brasserie Gerard, one of which we have in Farnham. We had a lovely dinner then a short stroll then back to the hotel.

Oddly, we are in the exact same room as we were five years ago though, since this area has had their analogue signal switched off, the size of the TV has been reduced. I’m not sure why but we have the smallest flat screen TV I think I’ve ever seen. Not that it mattered. All I wanted was to sleep and all I did was sleep.