Saturday, 28 March 2015

Murder, she wrote...

As I suspected, shit had hit the fan.  After our not-so-romantic failure of a homesitter, my  dear husband and child went to France, leaving me behind to look after our dogs and cats. Missing holidays in France was a hard blow, but something I can survive. But! 

They also went ... house hunting!  Without me!!! For me it qualifies as plain domestic abuse.  And as I suspected, the worse possible scenario has happened. They bought a house in Southwest. A farmette in Charente.  A man and a 12 yo child bought a home. Without me! 

All I have is few pictures taken by our 12 yo who is blissfully happy about the choice because our next door neighbours will be the riding stables. Good for horses and maybe... for gardening.  And extremely happy husband who called right now to tell that he already has done all the measurements and has made all the design plans for our house.... 

I’m sitting here steaming. Totally and utterly pissed off.  Murder, she wrote...

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

'No good deed goes unpunished

Do you know

the biggest complaints married women have about their husbands?

Lack of romance is a big one (among others, of course). When you look at a grumpy man carrying over half a century on his shoulders already, you do not expect much space for romantic behaviour.
Not my case.

Dear husband decided that this is the right time of the year to do something good. And he did. Invited in our home a homeless man. Lets call him John.

Sounds completely crazy, but actually this one was one of his best thought ideas. We knew John for over 3 years - nice, but mentally restricted, barely writes or read, but we never saw him drank or behaving badly so he seemed a real candidate to get a chance in life.

Husband, after his nasty burns, would do with an extra pair of even not so skilled hands for a help then and there. It would give John a chance to get off the streets, get back into same strenght and work schedule, and when he would be ready, my husband was planning to give him recomendations to get back into a proper job and start independent life off the streets.

We knew that John has epilepsy, so there were numerous limitations but we did our research and were ready for that hurdle. He also had no documents so my husband started to sort out all that right from the beginning.

So John came in and right into shower, his clothers were washed and sorted out, husband bought him new boots and some needed clothes, and good deed started. It was planned that we will be leaving for France past Wednesday, leaving him house sitting and doing some gardening when he feels like that.

 At the beginning seemed that all goes well - John was keen to do things, but some problems also arised. He needs to go to local pharmacy twice a day to collect his daily meds, and every time he dissapeared for several hours. The pharmacy is just 5 min walk from our house so it was weird.  But ok, John had been on streets for over  7 years, so maybe he is missing his street life?

Then on one of his walks he had a fit and was taken to hospital. Husband rushed there to find John smoking outside already. Well, that's the thing with epilepsy - fits come and go easily. Next day he needed to be collected from the hospital again - seemed that he had been hit by a car - John had bruised leg. But he still tried to convince us that he wants to do the work and that he can do it.

Next day husband went through his wallet and scratched his head - some notes seemed to be missing but again - as we were preparing for France, a lot of last minute shoppings were done in a hurry, so maybe he just forget something he spent the money on.

The next day we discovered the 20 pound note missing from the money jar, and this time it was absolutely clear that money is gone and only one person to be blamed for it. It was Tuesday afternoon, and we had ferry booked on Wednesday already. What to do?

Husband tried to find a last minute replacement (to look after house and after John) but all our unatached friends already had made some plans. Finding a professional home sitter on such a short notice and weird circumstances seemed mission impossible but husband still kept trying. I carried on packing...

And then I discovered that my photo camera also has gone. On Sunday night after Crufts I uploded pictures, and left camera on its usual place - on Tuesday night camera was gone.

That was the last straw for the big romantic deed. On Wednesday morning after the breakfast John was politely asked to pack; husband took him to shop to get him a new tent and back on streets he went. Seems like John forget to tell us one minute detail about himself - drug addiction.

So, ladies, next time when you complain about you husband being not romantic, please remember, that sometimes romantic ideas can be a disaster. This one not only cost me my camera, but also my long planned holidays in France. And might have even more long lasting effects on my life but that's for the next post.