My dangerous husband

My husband had a strange knack of leading me into some awkward places.Like we climbed a hill in Wales and he said
We don’t need to go back all that way,I can see a road.The only drawback was that there was an 8 foot high wall where the hill met the tarmac.We jumped down and here I am.Where he is G.O.K.

We were in Devon and walked 2 miles to buy some milk.Instead of taking it back to our cottage he decided we should walk to the sea,climb a cliff [ on a path] which led to a farmyard full of hissing geese on the descent.By the time we reached home we had drunk  all the milk and my knee high boots were covered in mud.It was March 1978 a very cold month.Then he told me to clean my own boots.

I didn’t get married to clean my own boots.It’s a man’s job,like understanding politics and  praying.I am too busy balancing the books.And cooking them.Or I was.

Now it’s cream crackers on toast with rockets.I feel sorry for the tomatoes but did  I create them?

My husband could not eat raw fruit .This proves Evolution is a false theory.Mind you,he wasm’t keen on vegetables either

so his death was self induced a burden to the tax payer.Mind you,I’ll say this for him.He was born at 29 weeks in the kitchen in Teesside  and he kindly died in A and E thus not counting on the official number of old folk who died in hospital this year.You have to be in a ward to count.

Thus it was that I gave my first conscious   live performance as a singer in A and E in Greater London as we call it.

My  petit frere can verify that I have given many unconscious performances as can my ex-boyfriend Arthur.If you hum on a date it’s a sign of something……….. the end of the affair?