Monday, 5 March 2012

A bag of Poppins

Not long after we got together, Bear and I went to Madrid. She organised travel; accommodation was down to me. Weeks before we flew she'd booked flights. I waited until the day before and booked a hotel: bargain price and in the centre of Madrid with lovely views.

I smugly told Bear the price and location.

Turned out the lovely views were views of lovely breasts. Lovely Spanish breasts and legs. Breasts and legs and the occasional slipped fanny. The hotel was in the middle of the sexy district. The manager looked perplexed when told we wanted the room for longer than a hour. 

This is a microcosm of our relationship: Bear plans, organises and leaves very little to chance. I go on holidays with prostitutes.

Which leads me directly to nappy bags. Obviously. During my Bug days, the nappy bag consists of nappies, wipes, a cup, a bottle of water, and a banana. That's me planning for all eventualities: nappies, wipes, a cup, a bottle of water, and a banana. 

It's as if I can't imagine a situation when one of these aren't going to be useful. If someone said to me 'what happens if Bug needs a change of clothes?' then I'd waggle the banana at them and wink knowingly. That's winking knowingly, never to be confused with the suggestive wink. Never waggle your banana at a stranger while winking suggestively. While we're at it: never waggle your banana at a stranger while wanking suggestively, although in this situation a waggling banana should be the last of your worries.

Sorry. I digress. Too much caffeine.

Nappy bags.

I look after Bug Monday to Wednesday. Bear does Thursday to Sunday. The Wednesday night air in our flat is full of Bear sighs as she adds to the nappy bag all the things she thinks she'll need over the next four days. Things like Calpol and tissues and plasters and toys and snacks. The adding of a spare set of clothes elicits a knowing banana waggle from me. She sighs.

Every Sunday finds me emptying the contents of the nappy bag across the living room floor, discarding almost everything she's added over the past four days. More sighs are given.

I get a lot of sighs, mostly deserved. I'd be lost without her: a banana is no substitute for a clean pair of leggings.

I'd like that to be my epitaph.

Bye for now.


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